


Making the Deal

by MissingMyMind



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Also Crowley, As close to canon as I could get, F/M, I promise, King of Hell, Original Character - Freeform, She totally kicks ass, destiel later on maybe, warning: may contain sexytime, where can you go wrong?, while still writing an OC, ye be warned
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-09-09
Updated: 2012-10-13
Packaged: 2017-11-13 22:15:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 12
Words: 27,315
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/508276
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MissingMyMind/pseuds/MissingMyMind
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Crowley needs to make this deal. Without it, things could go really bad for him. As in, Hell could collapse around him. Too bad his target is Pandora Burnett. Now she has to make the choice between going to hell and another apocalypse. Lovely.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This whole thing started around the middle of season six, when Crowley supposedly 'dies'. I decided that wasn't good enough for me, and started writing this monster of a story, one in which he survives. So yeah... Here is the first chapter, have fun!

Waving goodbye to her friends, Pandora Burnett exited the lowly lit bar and out onto the busy downtown street of Sioux Falls. The only reason she had even bothered to go out at all was to make her friends stop badgering her about getting a boyfriend. Sure 4 years without a relationship was a bit of a stretch, but they had started to get on her nerves lately with all the pestering. Of course they tried to hook her up with someone at the bar, and of course she though he was a complete ass and didn't like him. Hence the reason why she was stumbling the way she was as she left the bar alone. Slightly tipsy she giggle when she accidentally bumped into a man standing outside the bar.

"Sorry, sir," she apologized, pushing her long curly chestnut hair out of her face. Looking up at the stranger, she felt her breath hitch and heart begin to beat an unsteady rhythm. Standing before her was a handsome man, he looked somewhere around his late thirties and he was well dressed in a dark suit, he also seemed to radiate an aura of importance.

"Forgiven, if you walk with me," he asked in a low smoky voice with a British accent. She thought her legs might melt right there if he talked to her again like that.

'What's wrong with me?' she thought, 'I'm acting like I haven't been laid in years. Well, it's not like that isn't true, but I shouldn't be wanting to jump his bones just from hearing him speak.'

"I guess I could, for a few blocks anyway," she replied, suddenly flushing before looking down at the ground. She missed the cold triumphant calculated look he had when she agreed to the walk. He offered her his arm, and they began to stroll down the street, weaving in and out of the crowd.

'God, I MUST be losing it. I just agreed to a walk with a complete stranger. A completely hot stranger, but a stranger nonetheless,' she continued her internal dialogue.

"Would you grant me the pleasure of knowing your name?" he inquired politely. Pandora shivered again at his voice.

"Um, Pandora Burnett," she muttered, completely lost in her own world.

"Scottish, if I'm not mistaken," he replied.

"You aren't. My parents were from Scotland, although I was born and raised here," she informed him.

"How delightful," he said cheerfully, "I originated from Scotland myself."

"And what's your name?" she asked, looking up at hesitantly, afraid to get lost in the feelings roiling beneath her skin.

"Crowley," was his short response.

"Is that your first name, or last?" she asked at last, after waiting a minute or so to see if he would elaborate.

"Just Crowley."

It was then that she noticed that they were no longer on the busy street and had somehow ended up in a deserted alleyway. Looking around, Pandora began to worry, she had been so wrapped up in Crowley that she hadn't kept track of how long they were walking, or how far away they were from the street they had started on. She quickly released Crowley and moved away, looking up into his eyes, almost afraid of what she was going to see. His friendly smile had faded away to something that reminded her of a predator which had finally cornered its prey.

"What do you want with me?" she asked, breath shallow, backed up against the wall.

"A deal," he replied, a predatorial smirk on his face as he leaned in close to her, "Make a wish. Whatever you want. Fame, fortune, a basket full of kittens, it's yours." She looked at him quizzically.

"If I really believed you could do something like that, what would you want in return?" She demanded.

"Merely, your soul," he whispered into her ear. She gasped and shivered, looking up at him in fear.

"What are you?" she wondered out loud.

"A demon," he replied offhandedly, backing up, as if he hadn't just said something earth shattering.

"Impossible!" she exclaimed, "demons don't exist! They aren't real." She slid along the wall, looking for an escape route to avoid the, although quite handsome, strange and obviously deranged man. He cocked his eyebrow.

"Is it now?"

"Yes," she affirmed, straightening up, "Now I'm getting out of here, leave me alone." With that, she sprinted down the alley and out onto the busy street. Crowley chuckled as she disappeared into the crowd.

oooo

Not stopping once, Pandora ran back to her apartment, hoping to any god that might be listening, that the man wasn't able to follow her. Once she reach her door, she quickly slipped inside, locked it, and slid down the door, trying to catch her breath. She didn't even bother to turn on the lights, concentrating only on slowing down her hearts erratic beating.

"Ready to make that deal?" asked a voice from across the room. Gasping, she shot back up from her position on the floor.

"How did you get in here?" She demanded, looking around wildly in the dark for some sort of weapon. Crowley strolled into the lone shaft of moonlight in the room, hands casually in his pockets as if it was his right to be there.

"I'm a demon, I can do whatever the hell I bloody want," he said.

"This isn't possible!" she cried, grabbing the nearest heavy object, in this case a large textbook sitting on the side table. She hoped he would come closer so she could hit him hard with the book. "Demons don't exist. The things that go bump in the night don't exist. You're just trying to do... something. And you easily could have slipped in..."

"How?" he questioned flippantly, "I just strolled in through the open window? Maybe crawled in through the vents. No darling, I am very much a real demon." His smile was truly terrifying now, and she shivered. Now she knew he couldn't be lying. As impossible as it was, he was telling her the truth. She lived up on the 18th floor, and there was no way to get into the apartments from the ventilation shafts unless you cut them out of the wall. And she knew there wouldn't have been enough time for him to beat her to her apartment, and somehow get into the apartment without anyone noticing. Speaking of which, how had he known where she lived? She hadn't said anything to him earlier to tip him off, and she thought she had been careful going back.

"Why do you want to make a deal?" she asked, loosening her grip on the book.

"It's what I do," he replied, making his way into the kitchen. She felt there was no other choice than to follow him, after all, he was already in her apartment acting like he owned the place. Entering the room she saw that he was already pouring himself a glass of her favorite scotch. She scowled at him. He paused before pouring her a glass too.

"What exactly," she sat down at the counter, cup in hand, "is it that you 'do'?"

"I make deals with humans. You get your wish of anything you want, and in 10 years time, I get your soul," he downed his glass, "fair deal I'd reckon."

"I still don't believe you," she replied, "Show me something that could change my mind."

"Fine."

He whistled a couple sharp notes and the supposedly locked window blew open. Pandora started when she heard growling coming from beside Crowley.

"This is my pup," he proceeded to pet the air beside him, "Were you to try and break your contract, he would come after you and shred you to pieces."

"There isn't anything there," she said slowly, scanning the room looking for anything that could be what he was referring to. "You must have rigged the window to open, and the growling is just a recording in your pocket. You still haven't convi-" she stopped mid-sentence when something brushed up against her arm. The invisible creature growled again and she leaned away from it, or rather, she leaned away from where the sound had come from, and downed her drink in one go.

"Okay," she whispered, "maybe there is some truth to what you claim, but I want to know something... why me? Why do you want this deal from me? I"m sure there are lots of people more willing to believe you, who would definitely make a deal with you." He shrugged.

"I saw a challenge when I first met you. That intrigued me." She waved at him with her glass, wordlessly telling him to refill it.

"And why do you think that I would want something bad enough to sell my soul and only be able to live for ten years? Maybe I'm happy with the way my life is." Crowley looked around her very sparse apartment that didn't look as if someone even lived there.

"I highly doubt you are among the truly happy," he commented, pouring them both another drink, "very few are."

"What happens to my soul when you take it?"

"You take the jolly ride with me down to Hell, where we have tea and cakes all day long." She gave him an odd look and took another large drink of her scotch.

"What is my wished limited to?"

"Anything you want on this earth. Agree to the contract, and I'll make it happen."

"Ten years isn't a very long time," she muttered, nursing her drink.

"Unless, of course, you are able to convince the contract maker to cancel the deal," Crowley supplied, knowing full well it would never happen.

"Mmm..." Pandora hummed, looking down into her drink as she leaned against the kitchen counter.

"And I can ask for anything?"

"Anything."

"I don't think I can convince you to release me from the contract, were I to agree to one," she said finally after finishing her glass again. Crowley automatically filled it back up. "And I'm still not sure there is anything I want bad enough to condemn my eternal soul to hell." 'Other than maybe your body,' she thought, then mentally slapping herself when she realized what road her mind was once again taking. Shaking herself physically she looked back at Crowley who was looking at her almost quizzically, one eyebrow raised and head tilted slightly to the side.

"Don't tell me you can read minds too!" she exclaimed, heat beginning to rise in her cheeks. He grinned at her discomfort.

"No, that is not one of my talents, but I'm sure I can guess what was on your mind," he continued to grin.

"Shuddup!" she snapped, face bright red. He chuckled, taking far too much pleasure in her embarrassment. She glared at him and finished her drink again, thinking that maybe she wasn't quite drunk enough yet to deal with this. Once again, he refilled the glass without asking.

"So how long have you been tempting silly greedy humans into trading away their souls?" she asked, embarrassment finally dying down. Nothing like talking about death to kill any mood.

"Longer than you will ever know," he replied, taking a drink of his scotch, "that also falls into the category of 'Crowley's Private Business' and you would do well to leave it well alone."

"Fine. How many people have you sealed a deal with?"

"Many."

"Were you ever human? Or created as a demon?"

"I was once human. Made a deal, lived my ten years, then became a Crossroads demon. Enough with the questions before I decide you aren't worth the annoyance of listening to you jabbering away and sic my hellhound on you," he looked at her coldly. She huffed in annoyance and pouted, sipping away at her drink. The way she had it figured was that he NEEDED this deal from her, for some reason, and he wouldn't kill her without at least trying a little harder to convince her. 'But if he used his body for the convincing, he would have me agreeing in a heartbeat,' she scowled and shoved that thought to the farthest corner of her mind to be buried and forever forgotten, 'Okay, so maybe I do need to get laid, but now is not the time, especially with him being a demon and all that he wants is my SOUL.'

"Do I have a choice?" she asked after a while, and many drinks later, "or will you not leave me alone until I finally make the deal." 'God, am I really thinking this through?'

"It's entirely up to you. This can go either way. I would rather that you made the deal now," he replied, looking at her intensely. She sauntered over to him and leaned in close.

"I refuse to make any sort of contract with you," she murmured before grabbing the front of his shirt and forcefully bringing his lips upon hers. Quickly taking advantage of the situation, Crowley turned and pushed her up against the cupboard, knocking her head against the wood. She wasn't fazed by the rough treatment, in fact, it just managed to turn her on more. She responded to his force by molding her body against his. She touched every part of him she could reach with her hands, smirking to herself when she heard his quick intake of breath. She deftly un-tucked his shirt and started to undo his belt buckle.

"Do you have any idea what you are getting yourself into?" he questioned, biting her lip hard enough to just break the skin.

"Oh god, I fucking hope so," she moaned against him. He growled and pushed her harder up against the counter. She gasped as his hands kneaded the skin on her thighs roughly, knowing that as going to leave bruises in the morning.

"Don't expect my to hold back."

"'Kay," she gasped out, dragging her fingernails down his back. And of course he wasn't. By the time they made it to the bedroom, most articles of clothing had been lost and Pandora had many dark bruises forming on her arms, torso and thighs. Everything she received though, she also paid back, not that it had much effect on the demon, but hey, at least she tried. Soon she found herself lost in a world of pain and pleasure, not quite sure where one began and the other ended.

"Don't stop," she gasped, feeling herself so close to the edge, "oh fuck, what ever you do, don't stop..."

oooo

Crowley looked down at the sleeping woman, unsure as to whether she had a motive, or was just as sex starved as she seemed. Well, whatever, as long as he got what he came for, it really didn't matter what she wanted. And hey, he got some fucking good sex out of it too. He smirked. He certainly hadn't been expecting her to latch onto him the way she did, not that he was complaining, even he needed a good fuck every so often. He left then, aware that he still had pressing matters to attend to back in his domain, Hell.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Right, so I forgot to do a disclaimer last chapter... silly me. Well, here it is, I do not own any characters, situations, or story of Supernatural, only the original characters and original plot. I do borrow Crowley from time to time though... *drools over keyboard*

The following morning, Pandora woke up alone. Not particularity surprised by this, she still found herself a bit irked by his absence. Sitting up, she stretched to assess the damage done to her body the night before. She felt incredibly stiff and sore, but also remarkably refreshed. Thinking back, she remembered how tense and irritable she had been the last few months. 'Maybe I did just need to get laid,' she mused, climbing out of bed with some difficulty. Wandering around her room, she picked up the offended articles of clothing that were carelessly tossed about. She grinned when she found her boy-shorts underwear hanging from her ceiling lamp. This brought her mind back to thinking of last night. Sure he was a bit sadistic, but damn he knew his was around the bedroll. Reminiscing about the night before, she happened to glance at her clock on the bedside table. It displayed the time as being 7:25 am.

“Shit!” she exclaimed, rushing to the bathroom, “I'm going to be late! Why didn't I set the stupid alarm last night? Oh right, I was distracted. Ugh. If I don't hurry up, Boss is going to flay my hide.” She turned the shower on full blast hot and looked herself over in the full length mirror. Wincing slightly she observed the molted colours decorating her body. Her torso and thighs were covered in blue-black bruises, and her arms weren't much better, At least the bruising was in places she could cover up with her clothing. She didn't want her co-workers worrying about her and asking awkward questions. Her lip was also cut, but could easily be hidden with makeup. Shaking herself out of her daze, she had her shower, finished getting ready for the day and headed out the door for work.

Pandora hurried into the office, barely making it on time. Sure she worked as general data entry for the company, but her boss was a stickler for punctuality (not that she was ever late mind you. Well... except for that one time, but she swears it was a life or death situation. She just happened to forget to mention that it was the neighbors pet iguana that almost died.).

Avoiding the evil eye Boss was sending her, she slipped into her chair at her desk and started up her computer, looking at her large stack of papers that needed to be entered into the system with distaste. Mechanically she began entering the data, letting her mind wander. She spent the rest of the morning puzzling over Crowley. What did he really want with her? She had no doubt that he was at least something supernatural. Even if he wasn't a demon, he certainly was something more than human. She continued to ponder over what his real motive might be for wanting to make this deal with her. By lunch she still hadn't thought of a good reason for him to waste his time trying to convince her when there were so many more desperate and willing humans out there. Sighing, she rose from her seat and made her way to the lunch room. When she entered, she was greeted by her friends. The same ones who had convinced her to go out the night before. Ironically, while she hadn't wanted to go out last night, now she was kinda glad they had managed to get her to. Her day had ended on a very positive note.

Her expression must have given her away her good mood, because the two ladies at the table stopped their chattering and stared at her like she had grown a second head or something just as ridiculous. (although she was half tempted to check, after all, who knew what side effects there were from sleeping with a supernatural creature?)

“You finally got laid!” blurted out her friend Karlee once she sat down at their table. Her other friend Jessica just continued to stare at her in shock.

“No,” Pandora protested, fiercely biting into her sandwich, trying to buy herself some time to come up with a good excuse.

“So who is he?” Karlee demanded, forgetting about her lunch in the excitement of good gossip.

“Who is who? There isn't anyone.” Pandora tried to play it cool and not give them any reason to believe that she had met someone last night. It really wasn't their business if she had or not. This time it was Jessica who squealed.

“Oh my god! There is someone. You normally would have just told up to piss off and mind our own business,” she grinned, looking like a cat who got it's fish. Karlee sat beside her with the same smile mirrored on her face. Inwardly Pandora groaned. They were right. She wasn't sure she was going to be able to survive the relentless questions this time around. They would want to meet him and inspect him and make sure he was “good enough” for her. Crowley, she knew for sure was not someone you bring home to meet the parents. Sighing, she looked them straight in the eyes.

“If you two don't shut up, I'm going to find another place to have lunch,” she snapped at them. Not looking the least bit perturbed by her outburst, they just turned to a conversation on the latest office gossip. Quickly finishing her lunch, Pandora returned to her desk early, not wanting to give them a chance to continue the interrogation.

oooo

At the end of her shift, Pandora quickly slipped out of the office, desperate to just get home to relax. She felt incredibly stiff after sitting in her chair all day and just wanted to soak in the tub for a few hours. Thankful that her apartment was only one bus away, she stood at the stop hoping it wouldn't be late today.

“If this is what you do everyday, you have a pretty miserable existence,” commented a voice from behind her. With a start she turned to the voice and wasn't surprised to see Crowley standing there.

“At least I have a life, and a job that pays for the rent,” she retorted, “not everyone is that lucky.”

“Perhaps not, but here you are, in a dead end job, playing the part in a play which you have no desire to be a part of. Yet, here you still have the choice of changing it, and you refuse it. What could possibly be your reasoning?”

She scowled at him, “I'm not changing my mind.”

“Of course not,” he replied, clearly trying to antagonize her. Glaring at him, she turned to watch for her bus, intending to ignore him.

“This is not over,” he said quietly near her ear. She gasped slightly when his breath tickled the hairs on the back of her neck. She whipped around, not sure if she wanted to hit him or kiss him, but by the time she was facing him, he had vanished. Blinking in surprise she sighed again.

One twenty minute bus ride later, she unlocked her apartment and entered with relief, glad to be finally home. 'Now for that bath,' she thought, kicking off her shoes and stripping off her shirt. In the process of undoing her pants, she heard clapping coming from across the room.

“Really?” she sighed, looking over at Crowley, “can't I have even one hour of peace from anyone?”

“Now why would I want to do something like that?”

“Because I'm grumpy, and I'm no fun when I'm grumpy.”

“I disagree, I am quite entertained.”

“Bastard,” she growled, peeling off the rest of her clothes and slamming the bathroom door. She filled the large tub with bubbles and steaming hot water, then climbed in. Resisting the urge to sigh (she had been doing that way to much lately), she sunk down into the water, letting the heat penetrate her weary muscles. Closing her eyes, she hummed in appreciation, a smile forming on her lips.

“Do you still refuse to accept my offer?” This time she did sigh.

“Get the fuck out of my bathroom,” she said, opening her eyes and glaring at him. He smirked down at her.

“I believe I'd rather stay and enjoy the view.” Making a noise of disgust, she closed her eyes and attempted to ignore him. That is, until something slithered along her leg in the water. Jumping up with a yelp, she tried to get out of the tub without cracking her head on the toilet and without staying in the water longer than necessary. Once she was safely out of the water she looked back at him.

“Are you ready to make the deal?” he asked, leaning against the bathroom door, barring her only route of escape.

“No,” she replied, growling at him in irritation.

“I think it would be to your advantage to agree,” he continued, as if she hadn't said anything, “as you are now aware, I can make life very difficult for you.”

“Oh piss off already!” she yelled, “I'm in no mood to deal with you. I”m stiff and sore and just want some time to relax without someone trying to either get information out of me, or buy my soul. Seriously, LEAVE.” With that she swung her fist at him, intending on taking out her frustration on him. Unfortunately it didn't quite pan out that way as he grabbed her hand before it could get anywhere near his face. There was a look of annoyance on his face. He pulled her close.

“You would do well to know your place,” he growled, twisting her arm slightly. She gasped in pain. “I am not someone who you can boss around as you please. Remember what I am. Remember the power I possess. The power I can use to destroy you and the pathetic thing you call life.” Now she looked up at him in complete fear. No longer did he appear completely human. There was a shadow, or an aura surrounding him. Something that felt evil. She fully believed now that he was a demon. Nothing else on this earth could secrete that much malice. Briefly she wondered if he would kill her. Then she remembered that he needed her, for what, she wasn't sure, but he wouldn't kill her. But there wasn't anything that said he couldn't cause her much pain. After all, you would only need someone to be able to speak to do a verbal contract. Giving her arm one last squeeze, Crowley disappeared. Only when he was gone did Pandora breathe. She hadn't realized her was holding her breath. Shaking slightly, she let herself slide to the floor. Something told her that even now, he hadn't shown her but a mere fraction of his power.

After a few calming breaths, she got to her feet. Realizing the air around her was quickly cooling off, she wrapped herself in the large plush house coat hanging on the back of the door. She left the bathroom and made her way back to the bedroom, wondering if Crowley had hung around or if he was gone for the night. Part of her hoped he would stay away, but part of her craved for him. Seriously confused by her mixed reactions she got busy preparing herself supper of simple mac and cheese, and a mug of green tea.

After eating and having her tea, she felt much better, and actually hoped that Crowley would come back. She wanted to apologize to him. Sure he was being an asshole, but she was grumpy from the pestering at work, as well as the ache she still felt in her body. And she figured it was a bad idea to be on the wrong side of a demon. She debated staying up to see if he would return, but her fatigue won out and she decided to go to bed to give her body a bit of time to recuperate. Especially since she planned on a repeat of the night before. She went back to the bathroom to brush her teeth and get ready for bed. She felt pretty silly when she realized she hadn't let the water drain earlier. 'Guess I was just too out of it.'

As she crawled into bed, she thought of the events from the night before that had happened in this very bed. Inhaling deeply, she found there was still the scent of him on the sheets. She drifted off with a smile plastered on her face.


	3. Chapter 3

Waking up the next morning, Pandora was glad for a quiet, peaceful, demon-free morning. It was her day off and she planned on spending the day relaxing and wandering around town. Maybe buy herself some new clothes. Humming, she finished making herself an omelet breakfast and sat down in the living room for breakfast.

“Did you make any extra for me by any chance,” Crowley piped up from the kitchen. Pandora sighed, set down her breakfast on the coffee table and wandered back into the kitchen. There she found Crowley rooting around in her fridge.

“What are you doing?” she asked, leaning against the doorway and crossing her arms. He turned to her, glasses in hand.

“Hoping to find another bottle of that scotch of yours,” he answered, before returning back to his search.

“It's only 10 in the morning!” she exclaimed, “It's way to early to be drinking.”

“And that, my dear, is where you are wrong,” he drawled, a small sound of triumph coming from his mouth when he found her bottle. Figuring she wasn't getting rid of him, she retrieved her breakfast from the living room and joined him in the kitchen. When she got back, he had already broken into the bottle and had poured himself a glass. Pandora noted that he looked slightly frazzled.

“Rough day at the office?” she inquired, munching away on her eggs. Crowley chuckled without amusement.

“That's one way of putting it,” he commented, throwing back his drink.

“Huh,” she said under her breath, 'Wanna talk about it?” The look Crowley sent her made her want to burst out laughing or cower in the corner, she wasn't sure which was more prominent. A part of her also wanted to jump him right there. 'Seriously?' she questioned herself. Finishing her omelet, she cleaned her dishes in the sink and set them in the rack to dry.

“So I have a few errands to run today,” she went on, “Seriously boring stuff that I'm sure you wouldn't be interested in tagging along to see. So there really isn't a reason for you to be here.” She hoped he would take the hint and let her have the day to herself. Unfortunately, no such luck.

“Just the opposite,” he commented, “I”m very curious as to what you do from day to day.” Sighing, she went to her bedroom and closed the door, in some attempt at privacy while she had a shower and got ready for the day. Stripping down, she walked into the bathroom and started the shower. Turning around to grab her soap, she was startled when she nearly bumped into Crowley. Looking around him, she checked to see if she had actually locked the bathroom door. Yes, yes she had. In fact, it was still locked.

“What the fuck?” she asked finally, “How the hell did you do that??” Crowley grinned mischievously at her.

“Magic,” he replied, waving his fingers in the air.

“Fucking demons,” she mumbled quietly to herself, turning back to the shower, “got all their damn secrets.” Climbing into the shower, she sighed in bliss as the warm water ran over her still aching body. After a couple minutes, she wasn't surprised to have company. Before she could even have another thought, she found herself pressed up against the cold tiles, Crowley already taking possession of her lips and body. Quickly she surrendered to his intoxicating caress. 

oooo

Grinning like a fool, Pandora left the bathroom on wobbly legs. It wouldn't be an exaggeration to say that this had been the best shower experience she had ever had. She looked down at her body, ruefully noting the new bruises that were beginning to show. Ah well, it had been worth it.

Emerging from the bedroom after getting dressed, she was surprised to find the apartment Crowley free. 'Must have got what he came for,' she thought, amused. At least she would have some peace to do her errands. First on her list; hit the library. It was about time she seriously thought about discovering Crowley's motive. 

When she got to the library, she was astounded by how large the supernatural/new age/religion section was. She was also quite amused to find that supernatural and religion were considered to be in the same category. Picking books at random off the shelf, she hunkered down in a corner on a comfy mountain of pillows and got to work, expecting that she would be there for a while. After a couple hours of reading, she found she was casting off most of the books as rubbish. Most were hypothetical at best and none of them seemed to cover what she knew of demons. (Not that she know much, but none of the books covered what Crowley had told her about Crossroad demons and the like.) Growling in frustration she tossed down her latest book. This one described demons as actually being aliens from far beyond our solar system. She rolled her eyes, 'Gotta remember to ask Crowley if he's an alien next time I see him.'

“This is ridiculous!” she complained, rubbing her temples, She could feel a headache coming on, 'I'm going to leave this alone for now and finish the rest of my errands. I'll pick up where I left off tomorrow.” She returned the books to the shelf and left the library. She finished her errands (groceries mostly, and going to the bank, etc) and went home. Fixing herself some dinner, she remembered to make a bit extra in the off chance that Crowley would return. She was mildly disappointed when he didn't. Putting the leftovers in the fridge with the intention of eating them for lunch the next day, she retired to bed and curled up with a book, not any of the supernatural ones of course, now was time to relax and unwind from the day.

oooo

After a good uninterrupted sleep, Pandora woke up, had a shower, ate, and headed back out to the library, determined to get through those books. She slogged through book after book all morning, once again coming up empty handed. On her days off she spent most of the day in the library, and the other days after work she would hurry to the library and read through as many books as she could before heading home and crashing in bed. Sometimes with, but usually without Crowley. She continued this routine for the next couple of weeks. She had noticed his absence was becoming more and more regular and when he was around, he seemed almost distracted. This quite confused Pandora, since she was sure Crowley wanted that deal with her really bad. He wasn't even pestering her as much anymore. She was startled to find that she actually missed the bastard when he wasn't around. By the end of the second week, she found herself running on nothing more than fumes, which in turn, made her horribly cranky. So she decided maybe it was time to take a break from the books that refused to tell her what she really wanted to know. Taking the day off from work she slept in, intending to sleep the day away. Unfortunately, she still woke up early the next day, right on her usual schedule. Groaning she rolled over and tried to go back to sleep. Now, however, her mind refused to shut up and let her sleep.

'Maybe there's another store or two in the area with more supernatural books,' she wondered. She rested in bed for a couple more hours, before deciding that she wasn't going to be able to just lie about all day. She went about her normal routine and thought about trying to take another nap in the afternoon, after all, she was still exhausted and really did need the sleep. After crawling back in bed and attempting to fall back to sleep, she finally gave up. 'Fine, you damn body, be that way. At least I'll be able to get things done now.' She booted up her computer and did a quick search. Quite pleased when she actually got two results, she jotted them down on a scrap piece of paper and left the apartment with ever intention of locating the stores. Deciding to start with the one farthest away and working her way back home; she jumped on the appropriate bus and started her journey. Just under an hour later she was disappointed to find that the first shop on her list no longer existed. Crossing her fingers, she made her way to her last hope. Rather, her last hope within her means of transportation. When she arrived at her second destination, she was greeted with wall to wall books, and an older gentleman with an alert presence and a sharp look in his eyes.

“What can I do for ya?” he inquired when she stepped through the door. She grinned sheepishly.

“I'm actually looking for any books you may have on demons, specifically Crossroad demons,” she replied. If possible, the look in his eyes got even sharper, and more calculating.

“Now what would you need something like that for?” Here she blushed, despite her attempt not to.

“A paper for class.”

“Hmmm.” She shifted from foot to foot, uncomfortable with being caught in such an obvious lie.

“And maybe I need it to keep a demon off my back,” she muttered, looking anywhere but the mans face. Suddenly, he was standing right in front of her, shaking her by the shoulders.

“Did you make a deal?” he demanded.

“WHAT? No!” she exclaimed, brushing him off. He looked at her in obvious confusion.

“Then why the bloody blazes do you need books on demons?” he questioned. She sighed, realizing she was going to have to tell him at least part of the truth.

“I have a demon trying to get me to make a deal, and I want to know why he wants this deal,” she explained. 

“Did you summon him at a crossroad?”

“No, I didn't even know demons existed until he came along.”

“And you refused the deal?”

“Multiple times. He just wont leave me alone.”

“Did he ever tell you his name?”

“Crowley.”

Now the man was muttering to himself under his breath. He walked back over to his desk and started shuffling around the stacks of papers. Pandora followed him, wondering what on earth he could be looking for. With a soft 'Ah', he pulled out a very wrinkled paper that looked like it had a old coffee stain on it. He handed her the paper and looked her in the eyes.

“This has the number and address of Bobby Singer. He is the one you need to talk to. This is not my area of expertise. Mention my name and he should agree to meet you.”

“Oh, um, thank you,” she stuttered, confused and kinda worried as to why he was so insistent that she talk to this 'Bobby'. Looking around suspiciously, the man ushered her out the door.

“Get moving. You should talk to him asap.”

“Kay,” she replied meekly, suddenly finding herself alone on the street. 'What an odd man,' she thought, shaking her head. Looking down at the paper she was glad to see that the address was still within this state. Unfortunately, she didn't drive, therefore wouldn't be able to get out of town on her own. She hoped this Bobby would be willing to come meet her and listen, and maybe even be able to give her some information. She contemplated calling him then and there, but thought it would be a better idea to get a full nights sleep before attempting communication, with anyone for that matter. It was then that she realized how tired she actually was. Maybe it was the fact that she had at least something to go on. Even if it was just a name and number from someone who seemed like he might have escaped from the loony bin. But that could wait till later, for now, she just wanted to get home and sleep for a few years. Luckily she didn't have to wait long for her bus to go by heading in her direction. 

Once she got to her stop, she wearily stumbled into her apartment and across the living room into the bedroom. She didn't even bother trying to take off her clothes, just crawled into bed and fell asleep before her head hit the pillow.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Told myself I was going to update this once a week. Yeeeeeaaah... That worked out so well.

The next day, while on her lunch break, Pandora gave Bobby Singer a call. The greeting she received certainly wasn't what she was expecting.

"Yes?" came the gruff voice over the phone.

"Bobby Singer?" she asked, gripping the phone tightly in her hand.

"Who wants to know?" Taking a deep breath, she mentally steadied herself.

"My name is Pandora Burnett. I have a bit if a demon problem and was told you would be able to help me." This appeared to pique his interest some.

"What kind of problem?"

"I kind of have this crossroad demon attempting to get me to make a head with him, and I want to know why."

"You didn't summon him?"

"No, he just appeared one day and offered me a deal."

"That's odd behavior for a crossroad demon. Usually you need to actually summon them at a crossroad for them to strike up a deal. I'm going to do some research. In the meantime, don't be tempted by whatever he offers you. It's not worth it, and he'll own your soul in the end."

"Believe me, I am well aware of that fact," she said wryly, "He at least told me that was one of the conditions."

"Did he give you a name?"

"Crowley."

"Balls. Okay, stay pull, keep your head down, and I'll get back to you when I've got something," Bobby instructed.

"Yes sir," she answered, relieved that she finally might get some answers.

The rest of her week proved to be uneventful, for the most part that is. After all, it wasn't exactly the norm to be screwing a demon. She hadn't seen him all week and was glad when he appeared that evening after work. She had just finished making dinner when he suddenly appeared in her kitchen. Smiling, she pointed to the recently restocked cupboard where the scotch resided; knowing that he was here to relieve the stress that accumulated while he was out doing whatever it was that demons like him did. Serving herself some dinner she paused when a thought occurred to her.

"What would happen, were I to make this deal?" she asked slowly, trying to find the right words to phrase the question, "Would you suddenly disappear, and not show up again till my ten years are up?"

"That would more than likely be the case," he nodded. Frowning, she considered what he just told her.

"And you wont stop chasing after me until you get your contract, will you?"

"No."

"I see."

 

oooo

 

Early the next morning she woke to her phone ringing off the hook. Groggily she hauled her very, very sore (and slightly battered) ass out of bed to answer it. Glancing at her alarm clock, she groaned when she saw the display said 5:26 AM.

"'Ello?" she mumbled, not even trying to form a correct greeting.

"Pandora Burnett? It's Bobby Singer. You available to meet this afternoon?" the gruff voice said from the other end of the phone, "I found something." This immediately perked her up.

"Of course! Where do you want to meet? What time? I don't drive, so it's going to have to be somewhere near a transit stop," she fumbled around on her desk for a pen and paper, "I just live in Sioux Falls, so anywhere near downtown should be good."  
They decided on a place and time, and Pandora hung up the phone, feeling much more awake and energized than she had in the last week. Despite the fact that she still had over 6 hours to wait before she was meeting him, she found herself getting ready to head out the door. 'Well, now what? I have the whole morning to waste away."

"I could always go back to bed," she conversed aloud with herself, "But I'm already up. I guess I could always head over there early. No, it's way, way to early to go to a pub." She shook her head. 'Back to bed it is then.' Setting her alarm for 11 o' clock she crawled back into bed, suddenly feeling exhausted, realizing that she didn't even get to sleep till sometime around two in the first place. Hugging the sheets and pillow to herself, she inhaled deeply, smiling as she drifted off to sleep thinking of Crowley.

At eleven on the dot, her alarm went off. Instantly she was awake and jumped out of bed. She only had an hour to get ready again and take the bus over to the pub they were meeting at. After finally getting a break through, she wasn't going to be late just because she slept in. At twelve, right on time, she entered the seemingly dingy bar. She was pleasantly surprised when the pub wasn't as grimy on the inside as it had appeared on the outside. She walked up to the bar and sat on one of the high stools, thinking that when Bobby got there, he should be able to spot her pretty easily as she didn't really fit into the atmosphere all that well. When the bartender asked her what her pleasure was, her first though was of Crowley. Suppressing a telltale grin, she asked for a regular coke.

Soon enough, an older man walked through the door. He certainly looked as she had imagined he would after hearing him on the phone. He looked sort of like someone you would see at a truck stop, with his scruffy beard, blue and while trucker hat, and his stockiness. Not that he was fat, mind you, but he had a certain look about him, like he could easily pick you up and throw you out the window if you got in his way. Pandora made a mental note never to get on his bad side. He immediately walked up to her.

"Pandora?" he asked, holding out his hand. She nodded and grasped it firmly.

"Thank you for going to all this work for me," she replied. Looking around suspiciously, Bobby led her over to a secluded booth.

"This is not the type of talk for a place where over eager ears can hear," he said, sitting down and motioning the waiter over. "I'll have a beer," he told the waiter when he came to their table. He looked at Pandora expectantly, but she just raised her glass.

"I'm good," she grinned, referring not only to her still full drink, but the fact that she was finally, hopefully going to figure out what to do about Crowley. She didn't want to sell her soul, but she didn't want him to leave her either.

"So what did you find?" she asked, squirming in her seat, part excitement, part anxiety. Bobby sighed.

"Well, it's not good, that's for sure. Looks like you are nothing more than a plaything for the guys upstairs."

"Wait, what?"

"Guess I should start from the beginning. You know what hunters are?” She shook her head.

“I'm assuming they hunt... things,” she answered.

“Hunters are people who hunt the monsters under your bed. We kill the things that want to eat your insides.”

“Lovely,” she replied, her face scrunched up at the imagery.

“That covered, what do you know about the bible? About demons, monsters, and things that go bump in the night?"

"Lots," she chuckled, "I spent nearly a month in the library doing research."

"And what do you know about angels?" She paused and considered. Opening her mouth to say something, she closed it again.

"Now that you mention it, not much, they weren't exactly what I was researching," she said flushing and looking down at her drink.

"Well, I guess it started when the angels started breaking the seals holding Lucifer in hell," he began. Pandora was glad that she decided not to take a drink when he started speaking, otherwise she probably would have ended up inhaling the liquid.

"They wanted to release him to bring about the apocalypse so that they could completely purge him and all demons from existence, and create 'paradise'. This wasn't the case however, and both Lucifer and the archangel Michael ended up getting trapped in the Cage." Here, Bobby saddened. She wanted to ask about it, but decided that it was rude to pry.

"Now there is a civil war going on upstairs, and it 'ain't looking good for the little guy," he continued. Pandora scrunched her face up in confusion.

"Ok, well, I'm assuming that since demons and angels exist, that God exists too, so where is he in all of this?"

"He's gone."

"Gone?" Bobby grimaced.

"From what we can tell, he's completely disappeared. Now there are two separate factions of angels fighting, the ones who supported Michael and want to eradicate the demons, and most likely humans as well, and the ones who support Castiel, one of the few angels on 'our side'."

"And where do the demons fit into all of this?" she questioned, feeling a little overloaded by the information she had already received.

"Mostly, just trying to survive. Then there's Crowley. He's appointed himself King of Hell, and the bastard's trying to find Purgatory. Supposedly, that's where all monsters go when us Hunters gank them," Bobby told her, taking a swig of his beer, now that it had finally arrived. She felt the colour leave her face, and kinda wished that she had ordered a beer as well.

"And what does he plan on doing once he's found purgatory?" she inquired, almost not wanting to know.

"We aren't quite sure about that one," he answered in frustration, downing his whole mug.

"And how does any of this relate to me? Why does Crowley want this contract with me so bad? And how am I a 'plaything'?"

"There's something special about your soul. I'm still not sure what, none of my material says WHY it's so special, but as it turns out, the angels, when you die, will be able to use it to exterminate the demons. And you can bet that if Crowley's after you that Michael's followers are going to start looking for you too, and if they find you, I wouldn't put it past them to kill you just to get your soul. This is also the reason why Crowley wants the deal. If he owns your soul, the angels wont be able to use it," he explained.

"So, I'm screwed either way," she sighed. Looking at her empty glass mournfully, she motioned the waiter over and ordered herself a double shot of her favorite scotch.

"What?" she asked, when she noticed the odd look Bobby was giving her.

"You aren't freaked out as you should be after learning that not only are demons and angels real, but both are out for your soul," he said.

She shrugged, "What would freaking out accomplish? I'm still stuck, and it would be counter productive." He shook his head.

"You'd be a damn fine Hunter, given the training," he chuckled. She grinned and leaned forward.

"Could I?" she asked, "It might come in handy later on." Bobby considered it for a moment.

"Perhaps, but in the meantime, I think you should come with me, and let the professionals take care of it, we don't want you getting in over your head and ending up in either hands." Slightly put out, she sunk back in her seat.

"I'll be fine on my own. I have Crowley coming around all the time, and he's not going to let the angels kill me, at least not until he has his contract. Therefore, as long as I keep refusing, I'm safe," she stated, feeling a little bit proud of herself for figuring that out. Bobby thoughtfully stroked his beard with his hand.

"I suppose that would work for a while, but Crowley is known to have a bit of a temper. He may not kill you, but he is capable of torturing you until you beg for the contract." This time her grin was feral.

"Like I said, I'll be fine. I assure you, I can hold my own against Crowley. I have a secret weapon." She held up her glass and chuckled.

"Lemme guess, it's his favorite," commented Bobby.

"You betcha," she answered, downing the last of her drink. Her expression went serious all of a sudden, "so is there anything you can tell me to prepare me in case I find myself in trouble with either other demons or angels and need to defend myself?" Nodding, he pulled out a pad of paper and a pen, and quickly drew a pentagram with five different symbols in it.

"This is a devil's trap. When a demon steps into it, he's not getting out until the ring is broken." Now he drew another symbol, this one just a circle with seven symbols surrounding it and a large symbol in the middle, "For this one to work, it must be written in blood, and it works the best if it's your blood you use. It will banish any angel in the area." Nodding, she took the scrap of paper from him, planning on committing them to memory that night.

"I should head home now," she said, sliding out of her seat and standing up, "I need to memorize these, and I expect Crowley to come around at some point, and I would rather that he didn't know that I was going around trying to dig up information on him." Bobby gave her a look of helpless sympathy as he stood too.

"Take care of yourself, kid," he said, giving her another firm handshake, "I'll give you a ring if I happen across anything else."

"Thank you so much, for everything," she grinned. Quickly paying for her drinks, she headed back home, where she studied the symbols until she could reproduce them by memory.

Satisfied that she was at least somewhat prepared, she decided to treat herself with a movie and ice cream before bed, once again grateful to Bobby, although still worried about what she was going to do about her predicament. She didn't really want to go to hell, but wasn't sure how else she could prevent the angels from destroying Crowley. With a sigh, she put all thoughts of that away and sat down to enjoy her movie.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aaaaaand, 2-in-1 deal tonight! Here is the second update this evening. Sorry that this one is a bit shorter.

ONE YEAR AGO

Bobby Singer recited the necessary incantation under his breath, ignoring the mumble from the T.V.; as he added blood from his bleeding had to the mixture he concocted in the large mixing bowl. He threw a lit match in the bowl, watching as it burst into flames, knowing it would take no time for the spell to take effect. A split second later, a voice spoke up from the kitchen doorway.

“Making merry are we?” Crowley asked, hands in his pocket looking as if he wasn't just summoned.

“Bite me,” Bobby growled.

“If that's your thing,” Crowley smirked. He snapped his fingers to turn off the annoying buzz from the T.V,. and steps towards Bobby. “That Swan dive of Sam's was a thing of beauty. Tens all the way around. Standing ov' from the Romanian judge. You should be proud Bobby, as deaths go, it was not too shabby.” Bobby scowled at him. “Cheer up mate, we just saved the sodding world together. Me, I've been celebrating.”

“I'd hate to see what you call celebrating.”

“Yes, you would.”

Bobby grimaced and lifted a bottle of alcohol of the table and offered it to Crowley, “Drink?”

“No,” Crowley replied looking appalled at the idea. Ignoring the look, Bobby poured himself a glass.

“So let me get this straight, we just,” here he mimicked Crowley’s accent, “'saved the sodding world together', and you're too good to drink with me?”

“Obviously..” Crowley stated, pointing to a half empty bottle sitting the the television, “I doubt that you have my brand.”

“What's your poison your highness?” Bobby asked in a somewhat patronizing tone. Crowley took a deep breath.

“Craig. Aged thirty years at least. I've been drinking it since grade school.”

Raising his glass, Bobby walked around the desk, “Well, I got Old Rot Gut aged six days.” He took a deep drink of it as Crowley watched in distaste.

“Swill like that is going to burn a hole in your soul – oops sorry, my soul,” he smirked again, “But that's why you called. Our little deal.”

“Yeah well, it's about time you hold up your end and give it back.”

“Give it back?” Crowley asked, astonished.

“Our deal was, we ice Lucifer, you rip up the lease.”

“Oh,” Crowley sighed, smirking as he turned away from Bobby, “you didn't read your contract...”

“What the hell are you talking about, contract?” Bobby snapped. Crowley snapped his fingers again and pointed at Bobby. Hissing in pain he watched as demonic writing etched itself into his skin.

“Paragraph 18, subsection B, which is on your naughty bits; I only have to make 'best efforts' to give back your soul.”

“Meaning what?” Bobby asked angrily.

“Meaning,” Crowley started, making a straining gesture, “I want to,” he sighed, “but I can't.

“You lying sack of -”

“-Ten years,” Crowley cut him off, walking across the room towards him, “you come to daddy. Until then, I suggest you start drinking the good stuff.”

“I figured you'd say that. So you can rot here till you change your mind.”

“Why? Cause you asked nicely?” Bobby shook his head.

“No,” he said as he walked past Crowley to the kitchen door, “Cause I'm going Dateline on your ass.” He turned off the lights and looked at Crowley triumphantly as a Devil's Trap appeared, glowing under the black lights.

“I hope that's paint,” Crowley said turning toward Bobby. “Really,” he sighed before sarcastically saying, “What am I going to do?”

Bobby turned toward the kitchen, intent on ignoring the demon currently stuck in his living room. That is, until Crowley let out a sharp whistle and Bobby felt the hot breath of the hellhound on his face, almost as soon as he heard the growl. He gags at the awful smell and covers his face with his forearm.

“Doggie breath. Bracing isn't it,” Crowley calls out. Bobby turns as he continues speaking, “Ball's in your court, Robert. Ten years of living, or ten years as Alpo.” Bobby quickly glances back to the growling in the kitchen before looking at Crowley in disgust. He just smirks as Bobby opened his pocket knife forcefully and approached the circle. He leaned down and scraped the paint on the floor, breaking the seal, and letting Crowley free.

“This 'ain't over,” he threatened, waving his knife at Crowley.

“I wouldn't have it any other way,” Crowley said, stepping out of the circle and pausing before Bobby, “Happy hunting.” He walked off and disappeared, leaving Bobby to fume over the contract.

 

oooo

 

“Faster!” Bobby barked, scrutinizing Pandora as she reloaded the clip on her rifle and unloaded it into the dummy at the end of the hall. Running through the last of her ammo, she sighed and removed her safety goggles. It had been 2 months since she started coming to Bobby's yard on her days off, and her hard work was finally starting to pay off. She had grown some muscle and could competently load and shoot a firearm, as well as defend herself in hand to hand combat. Not to mention the other random “weapons” he had her work with, including, but not limited to axes, swords, and staffs.

“How was that?” she asked, wiping sweat off her forehead. It had been a hard day, and she was ready for a break. Nodding grimly, Bobby crossed his arms over his chest.

“Competent,” he commented, “might be able to train you yet.” Knowing that was essentially a compliment coming from him, she grinned and packed up the rifle.

“I'm gonna head home now,” she told him, “Today was good, but I really need some time to relax and sleep.”

“Get your ass out of here then,” Bobby grumped affectionately, tipping his hat as he walked back to his house. Smirking, she jumped on her bike and started her long trek back to the city. She found that, instead of getting Bobby to pick her up on her days off and drive her back to the junk yard, she could take the bus to the edge of the city and bike out to the yard. All in all, it was about an hour and a half journey, but hey, at least she got her exercise. All this extra work was definitely doing wonders for her figure, and she could tell Crowley appreciated the effort, even if he didn't know what she was doing to gain it. She also noticed that she wasn't bruising as much any more, either she was getting thicker skin, or Crowley was being abnormally gentle. 'Must be all the working out,' she thought, speeding up, eager to get home and hit the sack. 'After a nice long bubble bath.'

When she got off the bus outside her home, she parked her bike in the front entrance of her apartment, and entered the kitchen, intent on getting some sort of food into her roaring belly. After making a quick pot of soup, she sat down and enjoyed the peace and quiet. Supper being one of the few times she got to relax and just enjoy herself. Finished with that, she grabbed the book she had been trying to read for the last month, some silly novel about a teenage girl fancying herself in love with a vampire, and walked into the bathroom. Stripping down, she started the bath, loading it up with bubbles.

She sunk down into the steaming water with a sigh, revelling in the heat as it soothed her sore muscles. Deciding to forgo her book for now, she closed her eyes and found herself drifting off to sleep.

“Forget about me?” asked a voice from the bathroom doorway. Walking with a start, she opened her eyes, and looked up to Crowley.

“Hey,” she said with a smile, sitting up in the bath.

“Fancy some company?” he asked. Grinning, she motioned to the obviously too tiny tub.

“Be my guest,” she replied. Chuckling, Crowley snapped his fingers. Suddenly Pandora found herself on her bed, Crowley right beside her, already making quick work of his own clothes. Giggling, she pounced on him, kissing him soundly. When she released him to regain her breath, she looked at him seriously.

“I have a question for you,” she started, holding his hands still for a moment, “Please tell me why you want this deal. I know you haven't bugged be about it for a while, and yes, I've been thinking about it, but first I need to know why you are so desperate.” Removing his hands from hers, he moved away, distancing himself.

“It's nothing of consequence,” he replied. “And none of your concern,” he added, looking at her pointedly. Pouting slightly, she edged closer to him, determined to use underhanded methods if she had to. Perhaps he was rubbing off on her.

“Please?” she asked, looking up at him, trying to appear seductive. Of course it didn't really affect him, being demon and all.

“Your charms have no effect, woman,” he answered, appearing to be bored. Sighing, she gave up on trying to sway him and just decided to plain seduce him. At first surprised by her assertiveness, he quickly gave into the lust.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh, and just a note: all these chapters are un-beta'd, so they probably have spelling and grammatical errors.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ah, fuck it. Here, have another chapter tonight.

Once more, Bobby found himself bleeding out over a mixing bowl filled with the ingredients to summon a demon. Muttering the spell, he tossed a match into the mix. He turned and found Crowley across the room, looking extremely annoyed.

“Well, you look like hammered crap,” Bobby commented.

“And you're a vision as always,” Crowley countered. He looked up to discover that a Devil's Trap had been painted on the ceiling.

“Don't we both know how this game ends? Really Bobby, you gotta know when to fold 'em,” Crowley said, obviously not amused.

“Word on the street is, ever since Lucifer went to the poke, you are the new big kahuna downstairs.”

“See you've been reading the trades.”

“Trouble in Paradise?”

“Mate, you, have no idea,” Crowley sighed, turning and setting a glass that materialized out of no where down on the table behind him. He poured the remainder of his flask into it. “I thought when I got the corner office, I though that it was going to be,” here he paused long enough to drop a couple antacids in the drink, “rainbows and two headed puppies.” He turned back to Bobby, swishing the drink around in the glass, “But, if I'm being honest, it's been Hell.” He took a long pull of the drink.

“I thought that was the point,” Bobby asked. Crowley didn't answer till he had finished his drink and set the glass back on the table.

“You want to know what the trouble with demons is?”

“They're demons?” Bobby hazarded a guess.

“Exactly,” Crowley replied, “Evil lying prats. The whole lot of them. And stupid.” He made a face, as if he couldn't believe how stupid they were. “Try to show them a new way, a better way. And what do you get? Bugger all.” He sighed. “You know, there's days that I think Lucifer's whole 'spike anything with black eyes' plan; wasn't half bad.”

“Hmph, feels good to get that off my chest,” he smirked at Bobby, “we should make this a thing.”

“Do I look like Dr. Phil to you?” Bobby asked sarcastically.

“A little,” Crowley replied. Bobby shot him a dirty look. “Anywho,” he added, going serious once again, “Obviously not here for a social call. So on with it.”

“I want-”

Crowley made a noise and raised his hand to interrupt him, “Save you the recap. In fact, I'll do the shorthand for you.” He pointed at Bobby and spoke in a mock Bobby voice.

“I want my soul back, idjit.” He then pointed back at himself and replied with his regular voice.

“'Fraid not.” Pointed back at Bobby and imitated his voice again.

“But I'm surly and I got a beard, GIVE ME!” Now he didn't even bother trying to imitate his voice.

“Blah, blah, blah, homespun cornpone insult, witty retort from yours truly... the bottom line is, you get bupkiss. We done?” Crowley asked impatiently.

“Just getting started,” Bobby replied, a slight smirk on his face. He looked to his left, where the ghost of Crowleys son appeared. Looking startled, Crowley looks back and forth between Gavin and Bobby. Gavin just stares at Crowley with hatred.

“Gavin? Is that you? It-it's been too long,” he stuttered, looking heartbroken, “I love you so-” Crowley cut himself off by suddenly laughing. “Sorry,” he said, still chuckling, “Your soul for my boy, that's it, right? I've got to give you credit for thinking outside the box on that one, but, problem is, I loathe the little bastard.” He pointed over to Gavin, “You want to torture him just let me pull up a chair and I'll watch. Hell, burn his bones and send him down to me and we can have a family reunion. That's right son?” He looked back over to Bobby, “you picked the wrong bargaining chip this time, my friend.”

“He 'ain't a chip,” Bobby told him. Crowley cocked his head in confusion. “I was just using him to dig up dirt on you. And since Gavin hates you maybe even more than you hate him, he was more than happy to squawk,” Bobby continued, looking at Crowley smugly.

“What did you tell him, son?” Crowley asked, a note of danger in his voice.

“Everything,” Gavin answered, smiling wickedly. He looked very satisfied at what he had done and flickered out, leaving Bobby and Crowley alone.

“I know it all now, Fergus,” Bobby walked over to Crowley, who was admittedly starting to look a tad worried. “You may be king of the dirt bags here, but in life, you were nothing but a two bit tailor who sold his soul in exchange for an extra three inches below the belt.”

“Just trying to hit double digits,” he replied smirking, covering his worry with wit. Bobby just smiled at him. “So you got a glimpse behind the curtain, and...?”

“And- now I know where you are planted.” He picked up a wireless phone that was lying on the table and tossed it to a very confused (and steadily growing more worried) Crowley. Snatching the phone out of the air, he put it up to his ear, as Bobby just continued to smile at him.

“Hiya Crowley,” came Dean's cheerful voice over the device.

“Dean, it's been a long time. We should get together.”

“Sure, we'll have to do that when I get back,” he answered.

“Back?”

“Yeah. Me and Sam, we've gone international. In fact, we're in your neck of the woods.” The remaining colour drained from Crowley's face. “Did you really used to wear a skirt?”

“A kilt,” Crowley informed him, “I had very athletic calves. What's the game?”

“Dominoes.” Dean said, “In fact, we just dug yours up.” Crowley looked back at Bobby, extremely pissed off.

“This is ridiculous,” he told him, removing the phone for the time being, “The whole burning bones thing, it's a myth.”

“I know an employee of yours who would disagree,” Bobby countered, thinking back to the demon he had interrogated, trying to get dirt on Crowley. When he was done talking to her, he had burned her bones, finding that to be a very effective method of destroying demons. It had amused him to learn that they called him Lucky the Leprechaun behind his back, despite the fact that he was really Scottish.

“That's where she'd gone to,” Crowley commented, finally putting two and two together.

“You demons,” Bobby continued speaking as if Crowley hadn't said anything, “You think you're something special, but you're just spirits. Twisted, perverted, evil spirits, but end of the day, you're nothing but ghosts with an ego.” Crowley set his jaw, determined to at least stare him down. “We torch your bones, you go up in flames.” A faint clicking noise could be heard coming from the phone in his hand.

“Hear that, Crowley?” came Dean's muffled voice, “That's me flicking by bic for you.”

“Your bones, for my soul. Going once-” Dean's lighter continued to click.

“Going twice-” Exasperated, Crowley tossed the phone to the ground.

“Bollocks!” he exclaimed, not happy to be beaten at his own game. He raised his hand palm up, revealing the contract on Bobby's body. He turned his hand over and does a wiping motion, erasing the contract from his skin.

“You can go ahead and leave in the part about my legs,” Bobby reminded him. Rolling his eyes, Crowley did as he was told, obviously quite displeased at having to do so. Bobby looked at his arms in satisfaction as the remainder of the contract faded away.

“Pleasure doin' business with ya,” Bobby said smugly.

“Now if you don't mind,” Crowley ground out, looking up at the Devil's Trap over his head.

“Not so fast,” Bobby said, crossing his arms and leaning back against the table he used to summon. “I've been hearing rumors that you might lose your place in hell, if the angels are able to get a particular soul.” Crowley just scowled back at him.

“And where do you get your information, whispers on the wind?” he asked sarcastically, avoiding the question.

“Just answer the damn question,” Bobby snapped, “What can they do with that soul? Why is it so special?” Crowley just shrugged in response. “Now, I've tracked down the girl you are after,” Bobby said. Crowley looked at him in interest.

“And?”

“I want you to leave her alone. You don't need another soul to add to your collection,” Bobby replied.

“Ah,” Crowley said, “And that's where you would be wrong. I'm always looking to add to my collection.” He gave Bobby a nasty grin. Scowling back, Bobby shook his head.

“Whatever. Just leave her out of it. We'll find a way to prevent them from using her to collapse your precious hierarchy.”

“I don't answer to you,” Crowley growled dangerously, looking back up at the Trap pointedly.

  
  


oooo

  
  


Still standing over Crowleys' bones, Dean held the phone, still waiting for Bobby's 'O.K.' to torch them.

“I believe those, are mine,” Crowley said, walking up from behind them. Startled, they both turned.

“Ya know, now that I think about it, maybe I'll just napalm your ass anyhow,” Dean commented, clicking his lighter again. Still looking slightly frazzled, Crowley just watched as Sam took the lighter away from Dean.

“Dean, he's a dick, but a deal is a deal.” Looking put out, Dean just glared at Crowley.

“I don't need you to fight my battles for me, Moose,” Crowley scowled to Sam as he walked past them toward the grave, “Get bent.” Sam gave him an 'okay, whatever' look, and him and Dean backed up a few steps. He quickly examined the bones as he placed them in the bag. Once finished, he rose, looking relieved, and turned to the boys.

“Now, if you'll excuse me. I've a little hell to raise.” With that, he disappeared, leaving the Winchester brothers once again alone in the cemetery.

  
  


oooo

  
  


Pandora had just finished doing her daily exercises when Crowley literally blew into her apartment. Wind and everything. Startled, she jumped, knowing that he preferred the silent approach. She also wasn't expecting him to suddenly grab her and roughly push her up against the wall. _'At least I never have guests,'_ she thought, _'wouldn't do for him to come blowing in here like this if someone else was here.'_ She gasped when he kneaded her skin a bit to rough to be comfortable. Next thing she knew, she was on the bed being assaulted by his mouth and hands.

“Not even so much as a hello,” she grumbled, before getting caught up in the pain/pleasure. Soon enough, Pandora figured out that something was up with Crowley. He was much more forceful and focused only one his own pleasure. _'Well damn, I'm gonna be black and blue by morning.'_

“Crowley,” she whispered, “please, stop.” She knew it was probably going to be useless to say, but hey, she had to try, he really was starting to hurt her. She put her hands on his chest, trying to either push him off, or at least get his attention. It didn't work. Realizing she wasn't going to be able to stop him, she sighed, bit her lip and waited for him to come back to himself.

Once he was done, he collapsed beside her on the bed, tired out. Pushing herself up into a sitting position, trying not to wince in the process, she poked him hard in the chest.

“What the hell was that all about?” she demanded, “That fucking hurt ya know!” He just stared at her. Frowning, she studied him. He hadn't appeared in over week, and frankly she had been starting to worry. Observing him now, she could see the tension and stress in his face and body, even spent and relaxed as he was, it was still visible to her.

“What's wrong?” she asked, worried. Crowley refused to budge, he just relaxed back into the pillows and appeared as if he were sleeping. “Tell me, please,” she begged, “is there anything I can do to help?” Crowley opened one eye and looked at her.

“Make the deal,” he answered.

“Anything other than that?” she sighed in frustration.

“No,” was his reply. Growling, she sat down on him.

“I'm not letting you up, till you tell me what's got you so stressed out!” she declared. Raising his eyebrow at her, Crowley sighed.

“Well, if you insist.” He vanished from beneath her, causing her to fall over on the bed. Trying to untangle herself from the covers, she turned to the door, hoping he hadn't just left her like that. She nearly sighed with relief when she saw him walking through the door, magically dressed, and carrying a bottle of scotch and two glasses. After pouring them both a drink, he dropped a couple of antacids into his. Raising her eyebrows in surprise, Pandora didn't comment, but waited for him to start speaking.

“I was beaten at my own game,” he ground out, clenching his teeth. “I was threatened. ME. King of Hell. Threatened by some puny humans.”

“How?” Pandora asked quietly, hoping not to agitate him further.

“The little bastards had my bones,” he growled. Realization dawned on her. If they had his bones, whoever it was could have burned them... destroying Crowley.

“You got them back though, right?” she asked, face drained of all colour. It really didn't sit well with her to think that Crowley was in danger and could go up in flames at any moment.

“I would bloody well hope so,” was his answer, “There is no way I would leave something that valuable with those snots. I've hidden them for now, but,” here he paused to rub his temple, “if they manage to call their pet angel, I can't guarantee my bones will stay hidden for long.”

“What can I do?” Pandora implored, “is there anything I can help with?”

“Unlikely,” Crowley replied moodily, distractedly looking into nothing. Gathering the sheets around her, Pandora lifted herself off the bed and quietly slipped across the room to Crowley, her drink completely forgotten. Wrapping her arms around his neck, she kissed him, hoping to relay some sort of comfort to him. At least show him that she is there for him, even if he doesn't want the help. She decided that when he left, she would get right to work researching, to see if there was any way that she could help. Maybe there was a spell somewhere that could mask the bones or something. Or some sort of ritual she could do, so that the angel, whoever they were, wouldn't be able to detect them.


	7. Chapter 7

Another few days had gone by before Pandora had found anything that could remotely help her to find a way to prevent anyone from finding Crowley's bones. She had asked Bobby if she could do research in his library since the public library by her house was pretty much useless. Of course he agreed, pleased that SOMEONE at least would do their own research. So now, on top of her training, she was also spending a lot of her free time reading too.

“Yes!” she cheered, pumping her fist in the air. “Finally.” She started copying down the information in the book. It was an ancient spell for disguising one thing to essentially _be_ something else. She only hoped that it would work for something like bones. Or work at all for that matter. Hiding the spell page among her other research pages, she made sure to put the book back exactly where she found it, before heading outside and looking for Bobby. It was nearing dusk, and she had to leave now if she wanted to make it home before it got dark. Jumping on her bike, she started her long ride home. She planned on going straight to bed when she got home, since she had to get up early for work the next morning. That had her thinking of her “friends” at work. She had barely talked to them the last few months. After she had her life turned on her head, she found that she really couldn't relate to them anymore, and that she found their presence to be more annoying than anything. Not only that, but she found herself so busy with training with Bobby, researching, and of course, spending time with Crowley.

By the time she got home, the sun was just setting, casting beams of red light across the floor and walls. _'Pretty,'_ she thought, discarding her sweaty clothes as she made her way across the apartment. After a nice long soak in the bath, surprisingly Crowley free, of which she was kinda disappointed about, she decided to see if she could track down the bones and ingredients needed for the spell. After waiting for her computer to start up, she jumped onto Ebay, figuring you could pretty much buy anything there. Unsurprisingly, she was right. She found all the herbs she needed, as well as some bones. Making a face as she ordered them, she tried not to think about where they could have come from. She was also quite amazed at how cheap her purchases came to be. _'At least I'm not breaking the bank,'_ she thought wryly, finishing paying for the orders. Realizing her stomach was rumbling at her, she decided that it might be time to fix up some supper. Even if it was ten at night.

“What to make, what to make,” she muttered to herself as she dug around in her nearly empty fridge. _'Geez, I really haven't been around here much lately if this is all I have for food.'_ Grabbing some bread, she quickly made some toast before crawling into bed, hoping her package would be delivered soon.

It took almost a full week for her order to arrive, and the whole time Pandora found herself getting more and more excited to try the spell. When the package finally got there, she locked all her doors and windows as a precautionary measure against nosy neighbors who would more than likely call the police on her if they saw anything suspicious, and prepared for the spell. Following the directions very carefully, she added the herbs one at a time into the mixing bowl she had bought for just this occasion. Once she had done that, she let out the breath she didn't realize she was holding. This was the tricky part, the spell called for a part of the being you were transferring the energy from, like blood. It wasn't like she could just ask Crowley for something like that. If she had, she would have to explain to him WHAT she needed it for, and she didn't want him to know what she was doing in case the spell didn't work (which is what she was expecting to happen). Instead, she had collected a blood sample from him one evening after a particularly violent encounter. She had gotten carried away and had accidentally bitten him too hard, (although he had seemed to enjoy it.) causing him to bleed on her and the bed. The next day, she had collected the soiled sheets and cut out the area stained with blood. Hesitantly, she added it to the concoction, flinching away when the contents flared up. Blinking rapidly to remove the light spots in her eyes, she peered into the bowl. The liquid inside was bubbling, even with the absence of fire to heat it. 

“Now the bones,” she said, looking around for the bag they were in. “Bones, bones, bones,” she muttered, rifling through the stuff on the table. “Aha!” she exclaimed, pulling the bag up from the floor where it must have dropped. Pulling out the delicate looking bones, she dropped them in the pot. The contents sizzled and smoked, until there was no liquid left in the bowl. Picking up a bone, she looked at it, squinting her eyes. “It doesn't look any different, but I guess that's a good thing, right?” She sighed, “guess I won't know till I can get someone to look at these.” With that, she gently put the bones back in the bag and stashed it in her closet. It wouldn't do to have anyone unintentionally coming across them. With the bones safely hidden away, she quickly cleaned up the mess she made of her living room, and headed out the door, intending to train at Bobby's for the day.

After doing a few simple stretches, she hopped on her bike and sped off down the road. In the record time of just over an hour, she pulled into the salvage yard. Leaning he bike against the wall of the house, she knocked on the door.

“Hey, Bobby,” she called, “you in?” She heard muffled noises coming from inside, followed promptly by a few choice curses.

“Hold your horses, I'm coming,” came the muffled growl. Pandora grinned when the door swung open, revealing a rumpled Bobby Singer.

“Hey,” she greeted, noting that it looked like he hadn't had a good meal or any sleep in the last few days. He nodded and motioned for her to come inside.

“What can I do for you today?” he asked, getting right to the point. Dropping her bag at the door, she followed him into the study.

“I was just thinking of doing some more training with the weapons today,” she explained, “but I think that maybe it's a better idea for me to just cook you something.” Bobby fell back heavily into his chair. “When was the last time you ate?” She questioned, putting her hands on her hips. He half shrugged in response.

“Well, then, training can wait,” she exclaimed, turning and wandering into the kitchen, “what do you even have for food in this place?”

“Whatever you can salvage from the fridge,” he replied, “I haven't looked in there recently, so open it at your own risk.” Shaking her head, she took a deep breath and yanked open the door. Only when nothing jumped out at her, and there were no obvious signs of decay, did she release her breath.

“Okay, looks like you do actually have things that could possibly make food,” she noted, pulling things out the of fridge to prepare. “At least there isn't anything growing a mind of its own in there.”

“Har har,” Bobby answered sarcastically, shuffling papers and books around on his desk.

“So what's eating you?” she asked nonchalantly, tossing a few eggs into the heated pan on the stove.

“Hunter business,” he replied shortly, obviously not wanting to discuss it.

“And?” she prompted, determined to find the cause of his bad mood and total lack of personal care.

“Those morons have gone and made a deal with the devil,” he scowled.

“What!?” she exclaimed, startled, nearly dropping the pan on her toes. “Seriously?” Even though he didn't say it, she knew he was talking about Sam and Dean Winchester, two hunters who he had more or less adopted as his own sons. Not that he ever said that, but she could tell just from the way he talked about them.

“Well, not exactly a deal,” he clarified, “Crowley is holding Sam's soul and using it to blackmail them into rounding up monsters for him. Just so he can have more souls once he finds his precious Purgatory.

“Shit,” she said, at a loss for any other words. Sighing, Bobby leaned back in his chair and rubbed his hands over his face.

“So far I haven't found any way to take Sam's soul back. I've gone through all my research material – **twice**.” Giving him a sympathetic look, Pandora made a mental note to ask Crowley **why** he needed all these souls, when she saw him next.

“If Crowley needs them so bad, wouldn't that mean the angels would want to stop them?” she asked, scooping the eggs onto toast and carrying it over to Bobby. “Does this mean they are fighting off angels every step of the way?”

“Not in this case,” Bobby replied, digging into the food she offered him, “they have the protection of the Enochian burned into their bones.”

“Enochian?”

“Angel text. These particular ones make them essentially invisible to all angels.”

“Huh,” Pandora pondered, _'Maybe I could use that to hide Crowley's real bones. At least from the angels.'_ “How did they get the writing _on_ their bones?” Bobby paused momentarily, as if contemplating how much he should tell her.

“They were put there by an angel. Castiel,” he finally said.

“Oh right, one of the 'good guys' you mentioned,” she said, the conversation from months before playing back in her mind. They sat in comfortable silence as Bobby finished eating. Done that, Pandora was pleased to note that he looked much more alive and alert.

“All right, ready to get your ass kicked?” he asked, standing up and grabbing his jacket that was hanging off the back of his chair.

“Thought you would never ask,” she replied, a big grin plastered on her face.

&&&

Sam watched his brother pace back and forth with a his lunch on a tray in one hand and his cellphone in his other pressed against his ear. They had made a pit stop at “Fat Macks Rib Shack” while they waited to come across another job.

“I know Bobby, but there's gotta be another way,” Dean paced back and forth slightly, “I don't know, keep digging! I mean, if Crowley thinks we're just gonna-”

“If Crowley thinks what, Dean?” came that dreaded voice from directly behind Dean, cutting him off mid-sentence. Whipping around, Dean was confronted with the sight of Crowley standing all of a meter away.

“That Bobby Singer? Give him a kiss for me,” He smirked, chuckling as he turned to walk over to the table Sam was sitting at.

“I'll call you back,” Dean all but growled into the phone before hanging up.

“Good news boys. Got a job for you,” Crowley continued, turning a chair around and settling himself down beside Sam.

“I'm gonna say this once,” Dean scowled, sliding into the seat across from them. “You can take your job, and shove it up your ass.”

“Is that anyway to talk to your boss?”

“You're not my boss, dick bag,” Dean snapped. Crowley sighed.

“Dean, Dean, been through this. Quit clutching your pearls, you've been working for me for some time now. Sam here, longer,” he explained with a quick not to Sam.

“We didn't know,” Sam piped up.

“Like that makes a difference to you. You'd sell your brother for a dollar right now if you really needed a soda.” There was a brief uncomfortable silence between the brothers before Crowley spoke up again.

“Look, I'm sending you-”

“No,” Dean cut him off, angrily staring down at the tabletop.

“Beg pardon?” Crowley asked, a dangerous edge to his voice, as if he couldn't believe Dean had the gall to interrupt him while he was speaking.

“I've done some shady stuff in my time, but I'm not doing this,” Dean looked up at Crowley, hatred clear in his expression, “No.”

“Ten quid says you will,” Crowley replied. Dean smirked humorlessly, refusing to back down. All of a sudden, Crowley reached over and touched a single finger to Sam's hand which was resting on the tabletop. Sam gasped in pain as his skin began to sizzle and smoke.

“Gah!” he exclaimed as Crowley let go and the burn continued to spread and burn. Cradling his hand in his lap, he grit his teeth together trying to suppress the pain.

“You like pain, Sam, you like Hell?” Crowley asked, then turned his attention back to Sam's extremely pissed off looking brother. “You need to stop thinking of this as some kind of deal. This is a hostage situation, you arrogant little thug,” he ranted, his voice getting louder and angrier with each word. “I own your brother, you understand me?” Glaring at Dean, who glared right back, he snapped his fingers over Sam, removing the continuous burn.

“Come on Dean, smile! It's not that bad. Here's incentive. You bag me a live alpha, and I'll give you little Sammy's soul back with a cherry on top.”

“What, an alpha vamp not good enough for you?” Sam questioned.

“Best mind where you poke your nose if you want to keep it,” Crowley near-whispered, a clear warning tone for Sam to shut up.

“Your merry little hike up the food chain starts here,” Crowley tossed a newspaper on the table in front of them, “business man, found dead in his car. Chest ripped open, heart missing. Sounds like...”

“Werewolf,” Sam answered, picking up the paper.

“No, it's not a full moon,” Dean countered.

“Werewolves turning on the full moon, so... '09,” Crowley commented.

“He's right,” Sam added, “Samuel and I ganked one about six months back on a half moon. Things have been out of whack for a while now, I guess.”

“Yeah, I guess,” Dean said, giving Sam an odd look.

“So it's settled then. You bag the howler and bring it home to Papa. See you soon boys,” Crowley smirked before vanishing into thin air, leaving Sam and Dean looking around in customary confusion at the abrupt parting.


	8. Chapter 8

Waking up refreshed, although a bit sore the next day, Pandora went about her usual daily routine. Get up, go on a quick jog, shower, eat, then head out the door for work. Work would proceed as every other day before that, completely and utterly dull. Ever since Crowley bullied himself into her life she found herself distancing herself more and more from the people around her. She didn't talk to her “friends” from work anymore, nor did she meet up with anyone outside of work. Really, the other people she conversed with on a regular basis were Crowley and Bobby. But from what she had heard from Bobby, hunters didn't have friends. Just acquaintances. And even then then tended to only be other hunters. _'It really is a lonely life,'_ she thought, bummed out.

So very slowly did the day crawl by. To the point that Pandora almost cried with relief when she got to leave for the day. On the way home she decided ice cream was the only way to fix her depressing mood. Prize in hand she opened the front door of her apartment and kicked off her shoes. She wandered into the bedroom where she proceeded to flop on the bed. With a sigh of contentment she pulled herself up into a sitting position against the headboard, pillows cushioning her back, and cracked open the tub of Rocky Road ice cream. Half way through her tub and on the verge of snoozing, she was startled when Crowley appeared beside her on the bed, face pressed into the pillow. She opened her mouth to greet him, but held her tongue when he raised his hand.

“Hush,” he commanded her, face still pressed into the pillow. Immediately concerned by his out of character behaviour, Pandora abandoned her ice cream to the side table where she promptly forgot about it. Sliding down the bed, she cuddled up against his side, slightly disturbed by his behaviour and not quite sure what to do about it. Whatever happened obviously had stressed him out. She didn't pry, knowing it would just piss him off and possibly make him leave, instead she just offered her support by just being there. After a while she dosed off, only to be woken up a short time later by bright light coming in through her windows and what sounded like wings ruffling. When she opened her eyes, she found her bed surrounded by strangers. _'Angels!'_ she guessed, bolting up in the bed, which was unsurprisingly empty except for herself. Cursing herself for not keeping any sort of weapon by her bed (they were hidden in the closet), she frantically looked around herself for something, **anything** , that could be used as a weapon. Then she noticed that they had not attacked her yet. Confused, she looked up to the obvious leader of the group. She had very dark skin, and had a cold calculating look on her face said that she had better things to do with here time than waste it here. Gripping the sheets tightly in her hands, Pandora glared up at the imposing figure.

“Well?” she demanded.

“We want to make you a deal,” the angel finally spoke. Pandora choked out a laugh.

“I've heard that one before,” she ground out between clenched teeth, “and the answer is no, I'm not doing anything for you. Get the hell out of here.” Only the trembling of her arms gave away how scared she she really was. With no way to defend herself, and no Crowley in sight (what HAD happened to him?), she knew she was going to die. _'Well, fuck. All that training, all that research, and what? I'm gonna get crispified in my own bed. This blows.'_

“Is that your final answer? If you surrender yourself to us, we do promise that you will get whatever it is that your little heart desires. As soon as this is all over,” the angel calmly told her.

“Screw you, bitch,” Pandora snarled, preparing her last ditch effort and launching herself at the angel. Faster than she was able to reach the angel, Pandora found herself blinded by light so bright it brought tears to her eyes. Landing painfully on her side, she blinked the tears away and rapidly looked around herself in stunned silence. The angels were gone. Nothing left to even indicate they had ever been there.

Her confusion faded when she spied Crowley through the open bedroom door. He was standing rigidly in the hallway, a hand pressed firmly against the wall where he had drawn the angel banishment sigil in what was probably his own blood. He also looked pretty cross.

“Really now, throwing yourself at the most powerful angel currently in heaven. Clearly a brilliant idea,” he growled wiping his bloodied hand on a towel which had conveniently appeared out of no where.

“Thank you,” she said solemnly, just realizing how close she had come to dying right then.

“Just business,” cam his quick reply, “protecting my investment, as it were.”

“Of course,” she answered, picking herself up off the floor and sitting on the edge of the bed. She let out a shaky breath and rubbed her left shoulder which had collided with the floor first. That was going to be a lovely shade of black come morning. She shifted when the bed sunk under Crowley's weight as he sat beside her, offering her a glass of some sort of alcohol. If she had to guess, she would obviously say it was her favorite. Crowley may be an ass most of the time, but he certainly paid attention to the details. She almost smiled as she accepted the glass from him.

“They finally found me,” she muttered after a spell, staring into the amber liquid in her glass, “now what do I do?”

Without a word, Crowley rose and began moving his hand in the air in random patterns.

“What are you doing?” she finally asked after watching him repeat the motion a few times around the room.

“A rare African tribal dance,” he answered sarcastically, continuing into the hall and repeating the gestures in the air again. Rolling her eyes, she drained her glass and stood up, limbs no longer shaking.

“I think I know what you're doing. I may not be able to see them, but I know they're there. You're writing enochian, aren't you?” she asked walking over to his side. He glanced at her out of the corner of his eye, momentarily surprised, before smirking and returning to the task at hand. Pandora followed him around the flat watching in fascination as he continued writing the invisible (to her) language.

Once he had finished creating the last seal, (on the north side window in the living room), he turned to her with an eyebrow raised.

“Been busy while I've been away, love?” he asked.

“Of course,” she scoffed, “as if I could just sit around and not try to find out what you _really_ wanted with me. Did you really think that I would just lie down and take it?”

“If memory serves me, you have on more than one occasion,” he chuckled. She made a face at him as she flushed.

“Bastard,” she muttered good-naturally, crossing her arms over her chest. Composing herself a moment later, she launched into her tale.

“I couldn't just leave it alone. I _had_ to find out what you wanted wit h me. I started looking at the library, without much luck, the books there were mostly filled with new age crap, so I began searching in used bookstores in the area and ended up meeting a hunter. With his help, I've figured out what you want with me, and what the angels want with me.” As she spoke, Crowley created a glass of water for he and a glass of fine scotch for himself. He made himself at home on the overstuffed couch, listening intently.

“I've been training,” she continued, “I'm learning how to fight monsters and defend myself.”

“Bang on job you've been doing of that too,” Crowley cut in dryly. Pandora flushed again and coughed.

“Yes, well, this was the first time I was actually in danger... and I do have equipment. It's just in the closet,” she trailed off, realizing how feeble her excuse was.

“If you know why I'm here, and why I'm trying to strike up a deal, then why haven't you,” here he paused, a bemused look briefly crossing his face, “'ganked' me?” She let out a sigh and sat down in the chair across from him.

“I can't.”

“Can't or won't?” he countered.

“Both.”

“Why?” he demanded, despite already knowing the answer.

“I can't let myself become an instrument in the angels scheme to bring about the apocalypse. I won't, because I'm too emotionally invested in all of this.”

“Ah,” he exclaimed, looking like a cat that got the cream. “Shall we play a round of 'Let's Make a Deal', then?”

Pandora sighed, “I can't, not yet.”

“Who have you been training with?” Crowley asked, changing the topic quickly.

“You think I'm actually going to tell you?” she scoffed. “For all I know, you'll go and kill him to prevent me from learning and understanding anything about the supernatural!” Crowley's only reply was to make a low hum.

“Although,” she continued, “that reminds me. I have something to show you.” Getting up, she made her way back into the bedroom and rummaged around in her closet. Finally, she dug out a small-ish wooden box. Back when she had started collecting the necessary ingredients for the spell, she realised she was going to need something secure to store them in. Hence the reason there was an intricately carved box hiding in the bottom of her closet (underneath her various hunting weapons she had started to collect). She had happened upon it quite by coincidence a few days after she had begun her search for spell ingredients, in a flea market just outside of the city when she was on her way home from a long day of training with Bobby. She bought the box on a whim, liking the way it looked. The box was made of some sort of hard, sturdy wood and was stained a dark cherry colour. There were also many runes and intricate carvings covering each side of the box, and even some on the inside. She hadn't really thought much of it, other than it was pretty, but she still found herself buying it and taking it home with her. She researched the runes when she got home and was pleasantly surprised to discover they meant protection and concealment. At least it was one more thing she didn't have to worry about. Snapping out of her memory, she brought the box back to Crowley, he had moved from the living room couch to her bed, who raised his eyebrow in amusement.

“And what, pray tell, are you planning on doing with _that_?”

Pandora grinned, “It's not what I'm doing with it, it's what I _did_ with it.” As she opened the lid Crowley raised his other eyebrow to match the first, once he saw what was inside.

“Well, what mischief have you been creating?” She pulled out the bone and his eyebrows nearly disappeared completely into his forehead.

“Where did you get that?” he asked, deadly seriously, leaning forward in his chair. Pandora just grinned wider.

“Look at it closer,” she instructed, handing it over to him.

“Ah,” he said, once it was in his hand, “clever. And where did you dig this up from?”

“Ebay,” she replied with a blush. Crowley chuckled and handed the bone back.

“Clever,” he repeated, “but completely unnecessary. I've already got a back-up plan. And a back-up plan for the back-up plan.”

“But wouldn't it be better to have at least _one more_ plan to fall back on?” she insisted.

“I have got it covered,” he replied flippantly. Pandora frowned and curled up with her knees under her chin on her bed.

“They're coming after you, ya know,” she said softly, worry evident in her face, “even more, now than ever.”

“I know,” he said, “I'm expecting it.|

“Things are about to go bad, aren't they?” she asked quietly, burying her head into her knees.

“Yes.”

“I see.” Without warning, she grabbed him by the collar and dragged him fully onto the bed and awkwardly arranged the blankets around them, despite the fact that Crowley was dressed in a very dashing suit, so that she was pressed tightly against his chest.

“You wouldn't by chance be interested in making that deal now, would you?” Crowley inquired.


	9. Chapter 9

Ignoring the question, Pandora asked her own, “You are planning on leaving soon, going into hiding?”

“Yes.”

“Are you coming back?” she asked in a small voice.

“I don't know.”

“I see,” she repeated herself, completely at loss for words. She didn't know what to do. Suddenly, the threat on her life had become shockingly very, very real, and she didn't know how to cope. On one hand, she couldn't let the angels get their hands on her, so that meant keeping herself out of heaven; on the other hand, death was inevitable, which meant unfortunately, the only way she could avoid heaven was to either become immortal, or go to hell when she died.

_'Either way, I'm fucked,'_ she thought. At least if she condemned herself to hell, she had a good chance of preventing the second coming of the apocalypse. _'But can I just sentence myself to eternal torture? Sacrifice my own happiness for the rest of the human race? Can I do that?'_ Looking back to Crowley, she continued her internal monologue. _'If I do this, he will live, if I don't... it will destroy him. Would I sacrifice myself to save him?'_ She sighed, _'Yes.' 'Well that settles that. Bugger.'_ She pondered her dilemma some more. Should she make a deal now? What would she wish for? Or should she wait to see if another solution would make itself known? What should she do? _'Well, I guess I'll wait. At least I know he will come back after this blows over, if not just for the deal. Should I risk that?'_

“I don't know what to do,” she whispered, her voice full of anguish, “do you really have to leave?” He nodded.

“I think,” she began, curling in on herself some more, “that I might be a bit too emotionally compromised.”

“I know,” was his only reply. 

“Right,” she muttered, closing her eyes and flushing, suddenly embarrassed. In an attempt not to meet his eyes when she opened hers, she glanced up at the clock and was surprised to see that it was quickly approaching noon. She would have to leave soon if she wanted to make it to Bobby's if she still wanted to train that afternoon.

“I guess I don't need to hide it anymore,” she said, disentangling herself from his arms and getting up, “I'm going out to train today and I really should leave now.” Crowley lounged on her bed and contemplated whatever it is that King's of Hell contemplate about as Pandora busied herself getting ready for the day.

“Please don't follow me,” she begged, looking at him through the reflection in her mirror, as she pull her hair back into a messy bun in an attempt to tame the curls. Strapping on her backpack of 'supplies' she made her way to the front door. As she unlocked the door to leave, Crowley grinned lazily to himself and called out, “Give Bobby kisses for me, won't you?” 

Turning, she looked at him strangely from across the flat and asked, “How did you know I was training with Bobby?”

“Lucky guess,” he replied breezily.

“Yeah right, lucky guess my ass,” she grumbled as she walked out the door.

oooo

Riding her bike down the relatively empty highway just outside of the city, Pandora pedaled as hard as she could in an effort to burn away the embarrassment she felt at exposing herself like that. It was bad enough admitting how she felt to herself, but that fact that he knew the extent of her feelings. _'Ugh,'_ she thought, _'Can the earth please just swallow me up now?'_

Making it to Bobby's in record time, she was relieved to find the hard ride had helped to calm her down. If she had showed up in the state she was in before her ride, he would know something was up and wouldn't drop it till he found out what it was. She didn't even want to even try to explain her relationship with Crowley to Bobby. Not to mention the fact that he would probably kick her ass for being stupid enough to fall for the creature that wanted to take her soul to hell.

On further reflection she did have to ask herself what the hell had happened to her life. At one time, she was a regular (boring) person, with a regular (boring) job, regular (boring) friends, and an unhealthy obsession with books. Now, she was training to fight the monsters in the dark, was in love with a demon, and had to choose between sending her own soul to hell or condemning the world to (apparently another) apocalypse. _And she wouldn't have it any other way._ Well, except for the bit about the apocalypse and the inevitable doom of her soul. Before, her life had been dull, nothing of interest ever happened, it was just... pointless. Perhaps she could be a hunter, maybe even do it professionally, and possibly quit her hated day job. If she didn't prematurely meet her end by angel or demon of course. Breathing heavily, she walked her bike down the driveway, giving herself time to cool off before meeting Bobby. Leaning her bike against the weathered porch, she let herself into the house, only to come face to face with a shotgun. With her training kicking in she shoved the nose of the gun to the side, grabbed it with both hands and slammed it into her attackers face. It obviously wasn't expected and surprised him since the blow send him reeling back, blood flowing freely from his nose. Taking the opportunity, she snatched the gun out of his loose hands and turned it on him, clearly demonstrating her knowledge of the weapon. Hearing a click as a gun was cocked behind her head, she swore, lowered the shotgun, and turned to the second attacker. While the first one was average height, with short light brown hair, this one towered over her, with the build of... well, he kinda reminded her of a moose with his square chin and shaggy hair that fell almost to his shoulders and over his serious eyes. All at once it clicked and she grinned, completely dropping the gun to her side.

“You must be Sam and Dean,” she said. Dean looked up at her from the floor, scowling as he held his bleeding nose.

“Who the hell are you?” he asked suspiciously, stumbling to his feet, ready to attack again if necessary.

“Pandora Burnett,” she answered, sticking out her hand. When Dean didn't move forward and Sam didn't lower his gun, she grinned wider. “I take it Bobby hasn't mentioned me.” They both looked at her in confusion. “I'm training under Bobby,” she supplied. A look of realization came over both of their faces.

“You're the one the angels and demons are fighting over,” Dean said, wiping his nose on the sleeve of his jacket to clean off the blood from his face. Finally Sam removed the gun from her temple. 

“The one and only,” she replied, handing the shotgun back to Dean. “Where's Bobby?” she asked looking around the kitchen.

“Actually,” Sam started, his forehead creasing in what appeared to be worry and frustration.

“We don't know,” Dean finished abruptly. 

“That's why we attacked when you came through the door uninvited,” Sam explained, tucking his handgun into the waistband of his jeans.

“That's odd,” Pandora agreed, her own brow creasing in worry, “We are supposed to be training today.” Setting her oversized backpack by the door, she wandered through the kitchen into the study, looking for any sort of clue pointing to where Bobby could have gone. Moving into the next room, the “call center” as she called it, she let out a breath she didn't know she was holding when she saw one of the answering machines blinking at her.

“Sam, Dean, come in here,” she called. They entered the room and she pointed to the machine. “You didn't see this?” she questioned, eyebrow raised.

“We just got here ourselves, and only had a couple minutes to look around before you showed up,” Dean told her. “We didn't have to investigate here,” Nodding her understanding, Pandora pressed the play button on the machine and they all crowded around to listen to the message.

“Pandora,” came Bobby's gruff voice over the speaker, “Sorry for the short notice, but I had to hunt down a damn demon this morning. Got wind about one that might lead to Crowley. I shouldn't be gone longer than this evening. If you don't hear from me by six, call Dean. Those boys should be back in the area soon and can help in retrieving my dead carcass if it comes to that.”

“Pleasant as always,” Dean grimaced when the machine beeped, signaling the end of the message.

“So what do we do now? Go search for him?” she asked, creating a mental stock list of weapons and items they may need.

“Nothing,” Sam replied, “we wait until Bobby comes back, or if he isn't back by six, we will go look for him then.”

“Okay,” she muttered, worry etched into her features.

“Ah, don't worry,” Dean said, throwing his arm around her shoulders, “This is Bobby we're talking about, he'll kick that demons ass to hell and back if he has too. And in the meantime, you have me to keep you company.” He flashed her what was probably his award-winning smile that melted hearts everywhere.

“Ummm, no,” Pandora said, ducking under his arm and moving a few steps back. Sam chuckled slightly at the shocked/offended expression on Dean's face. It was a look that said he wasn't expecting her to turn him down and that it was a rare occurrence. Pouting and glaring daggers at Dean, she walked back into the study and flopped down into the old beaten down sofa by the window.

“Try that again and I'll kick your ass.”

“You're hardly intimidating,” Dean taunted her, trying to salvage his bruised ego.

“I would have been able to take you out if he hadn't shown up,” she pouted, jerking her head in Sam's direction.

“As if,” Dean scoffed.

“She did have you disarmed and knocked to the floor,” Sam pointed out. Dean glared over at him.

“Dude, not helping,” he said. Sam just shrugged in response.

“So what do we do while we wait?” Pandora asked suddenly when Sam glared back at Dean. She didn't want to start a fight between the brothers.

“Sit here, stare at a wall, watch porn. Nothing much else we can do really,” Dean answered with a shrug.

Moving around restlessly, Pandora grimaced, “That's it? Is there really nothing else we can do? I might go crazy waiting if that is it.”

“Well, you were trained by Bobby, lets see how good you really are,” Sam said to her, leaning back against the door frame, his arms crossed over his chest.

“Hell yeah,” she grinned, jumping up. Dean looked positively delighted at the prospect of beating the cockiness out of her in the hopes of regaining his manly pride. Pandora rolled her eyes when she saw the look on his face.

“Come on Lover-boy” she said, nearly waltzing out the door, “let's see how bad I can beat your ass.” 

“Just try it!” he shouted after her.

So that was how she spent her afternoon; getting drilled on her knowledge of the supernatural, weapons, and fighting. Afterward, even Dean had to grudgingly admit that she had been trained well and perhaps did actually know her stuff. For the most part anyway.

By evening, all three of them were tense, waiting to see if they would have to go search for Bobby. At a quarter to six, there was a collective sigh of relief when they heard the motor of a truck make its way down the road towards them. In silent agreement they all cautiously made their way to the front door to greet the visitor. With a big grin, Pandora launched herself out the door as soon as she saw Bobby emerge from his vehicle. As a precaution though, she still tossed a bottle of holy water in his face when she reached him. When all he did was sputter and wipe the water out of his eyes, she threw herself into his arms, nearly knocking him over.

“We were so worried!” she exclaimed, still grinning like a fool and clinging to him like a monkey. “Did you find anything?” A dark look came across his face when she asked. Her smile faltered at that and she loosened her death grip on him. Bad news then.

“Inside,” was all he said. Nodding, she let go of him and trailed after him up to the house where Sam and Dean were waiting.

Settling down in the study, drinks in hand, Pandora, Sam, and Dean waited with bated breath to hear what Bobby had found.

“Nothing,” he grumbled, “The demon I trailed was a lowly peon. Wasted the whole day following him too, looking for a chance to get him alone. Pain in the ass.”

“So now what?” Dean asked, playing with the empty glass in his hands.

“We sit around drinking tea and eating cakes,” Bobby said sarcastically, “we wait for something to come up, moron.”

“In that case, I'm going home,” Pandora sighed, standing up, “I don't play the waiting game very well.”

“We know,” Sam and Dean chorused. She stuck her tongue out at them and made a face. Glancing outside, she winced at how dark it was already. Usually she left Bobby's early enough that she would be riding home in the light. It made her leery to ride her bike down the lonely stretch of highway towards the city at night. Noticing her look, Dean spoke up.

“Long way to go?” he asked.

“Just into the city,” she replied turning to look at him, “it's not far, but...” Trailing off, she looked back out the window, her unease evident.

“We'll give you a lift. Sam and I have to make a trip into the city anyways.”

“We do?” Sam questioned, before getting elbowed in the ribs by Dean.

“Please,” she nearly sighed with relief.


	10. Chapter 10

Once her bike was safely stowed away in the trunk (how on _earth_ did it fit in there anyway?), she was offered the front seat by Dean. Going by the eye roll Sam did at the gesture, she realized he still wasn't giving up. With a grin and dramatic flourish she claimed the seat as hers. Shaking his head, Sam crawled into the back seat and they were on their way.

“Got any tunes?” Pandora questioned, after a brief silence.

“Of course,” scoffed Dean, reaching over and pulling out his box of cassettes.

“Wow, old school,” she commented.

“I've got all the classics,” he boasted.

“Awesome!” she grinned, flipping through Black Sabbath, Pink Floyd, and Journey before settling on Kansas. Smiling faintly at her choice, he put the tape in the player and the sweet sound of “Carry On My Wayward Son” swept over them.

“What happened to 'driver picks the music and passenger shuts their pie-hole?” Sam asked, sitting back in his seat.

“He's just sucking up because I beat his ass today,” Pandora chuckled.

“You wish!” Dean countered. She stuck her tongue out at him in response again. Sam sighed to himself as he observed their behaviour from the cramped back seat. The drive was quite short, less that fifteen minutes from the time they left.

“Geez, I should get a ride more often,” she commented upon their arrival and parking, “I'd save so much-” Before she could even finish her sentence there was a bright flash and the sound of wings beating.

“Sonovabitch!” Dean swore, jumping out of the car and popping the trunk in search for something to defend themselves with.

“Dean, Sam, this way!” Pandora called out, quickly making her way into her apartment. Without hesitation they bolted after her, only stopping once they were within the 'safety' of the apartment. Dean sliced his hand with the knife he had grabbed from the trunk hand had quickly scribbled the angel banishment sigil on her wall, hand posed at the ready for when they would appear. Sam on the other hand, had gotten an angel blade at some point and was holding it at the ready.

“Relax boys,” Pandora began, “they can't get in here.”

“How?” Dean asked sharply, not lowering his hand.

“Enochian writing all over my apartment. I found someone who could write it for me.” At his incredulous look she said, “I've been building connections.” Pandora shrugged it off, trying to make it seem unimportant. She got the feeling that if they actually knew _who_ had done this for her, they would be a lot less willing to be there. Or try to get her to tell them where Crowley was. _'Yeah, cause he tells me where he goes when he's not here,'_ she though, suppressing a chuckle. They didn't really seem to believe her, but thankfully dropped the subject.

“So what should we do?” she asked, “Is it safe? Do you think they have left? Or are they just waiting for us to eventually leave the apartment?”

“I don't know,” Dean answered tersely, “only one way to find out.” Looking around, he grabbed the small mirror Pandora had sitting on the side table by the door and redrew the sigil on the surface. Slowly he opened the door and inched his way outside. Holding her breath, she gripped Sam's arm in terror as they followed after Dean.

“It's clear,” he called, relaxing his shoulders and turning back to them. Sighing in relief, Pandora nearly collapsed, her grip on Sam the only thing keeping her steady.

“Woah,” he said, “You alright?” Dean hurried over and helped support her from the other side.

“Yeah,” she answered, “It's just been a stressful day. I really need to rest.” Standing on her own again, Pandora shook off both of their hands and walked back over to Dean's car. Tapping on the trunk, she looked at them expectantly. “I still need my bike.”

“And we are technically on a job,” Sam told her, “so we'll get out of your hair now.”

“We've got a Rugaru to catch,” Dean added, looking not too pleased at the prospect. Once her bike had been removed, and re-assembled, she waved them off and returned to the comfort of her flat.

Only when she was inside with the door firmly locked did she finally let herself relax. With a sigh she put her bike away and collapsed on her bed, not even bothering to have a shower or change her clothes.

“What a day,” she groaned into her pillow.

“A good one, I hope,” Crowley said from the doorway. Rolling over onto her back, Pandora just looked at him.

“You're kidding me, right? After the attack this morning, I went to Bobby's where I found out that he was off hunting some demon, looking for information on _you_. Not only that, but then I had to sit there and worry about him all afternoon until he finally came back. The only positive was that I finally got to meet Sam and Dean,” she explained.

“Oh goody. And what do you think of the Moron Brothers?” he asked, moving closer to the bed.

“I like them,” Pandora answered, saying that not only because it was true, but because she knew it would annoy him. She wasn't disappointed when he scowled at her. “They seem a little... off with each other right now. I think they have some issues going on between them, but all in all, they aren't bad guys. Oh, and they gave me a ride home, but when we got here, I was once again attacked by angels. Bloody bastards won't even give me a moment of peace!” she paused, and gave him a once over. He looked tired, worn, and grim.

“Oh,” she said quietly. Looking at him tenderly, she opened her arms in invitation which he gladly accepted.

  
  


oooo

_The Next Morning_

  
  


Wrapped up in a cocoon of warmth, Pandora slowly woke from dozing off. Snuggling up to the heat source, she looked up at Crowley with a small smile, pleasantly surprised that he was still there.

“Hi,” she murmured, looking into his eyes, still feeling all fuzzy inside. Suddenly, reality set in and with a sharp intake of breath she sat up.

“You're still here,” she stated the obvious, gazing down at him. He leaned forward and nuzzled the junction of her collarbone. He hummed deep in his chest as he peppered her skin with small bites.

“Hey, buddy,” she complained half-heartedly, “don't try to distract me right now. We need to talk.” Growling his displeasure, he gave her collarbone one final nip before shifting and pulling himself to a sitting position against the headboard.

“It's time, huh?” she questioned, burrowing her head into his side, “Come back safe okay?” She looked at him ruefully through her hair, “you still have a deal to convince me to make.” Crowley smirked down at her, then disappeared from her side, only to appear at the foot at the bed fully dressed.

“One last thing,” Crowley said, “I figured you're going to be stupid enough to go gallivanting across the country-side, 'ganking the baddies' as you'd say, so I've got a safety measure.” Pandora started when she felt a weight settle on the end of her bed despite there being nothing there. Staring at the indent in the blanket owlishly she quickly sat up, attempting to pull the blanket up with her, only to be foiled when the blanket refused to budge from the invisible creature.

“Ummm,” she said at a loss for words.

“My pup,” Crowley said proudly, “you can't see her. Not yet anyway. The only ones who can see her are the ones who are about to make their payment.” He didn't need to elaborate on that. She knew exactly what he was talking about. It made her shudder.

“But,” he continued, “I'm taking a leave, and can't have you going off somewhere and getting yourself killed, so I've decided to leave her here, temporarily that is.”

“I can't see her,” she said, “how will that help me?” He moved closer and leaned on the bed, his face mere inches from hers.

“A contract,” he breathed, “of course it will be temporary. You can see her, and she can keep your sorry arse alive while I'm away.” When she nodded, he sealed the deal with a long heated kiss. When he finally moved away, she kept her eyes closed, breathing in his scent in what she hoped wouldn't be the last time. When she eventually did open her eyes, he was gone. Sighing, she glanced towards the end of her bed out the corner of her eye, almost afraid, no, scratch that, definitely afraid at what she was going to find there.

As she feared, the hell hound was lying there looking at her expectantly. The creature was _huge_ , taking up a good chunk of the bed, had a wild black shaggy coat of fur, and blazing red eyes that glowed. She gasped when the creature opened it's mouth to reveal many long, sharp teeth that looked like they were definitely designed to tear apart a human. The hellhound was a fearsome sight for sure, but when all it did was lie there looking at Pandora, she let her breath out in a drawn out sigh to steady her nerves. It would do no good to constantly be terrified at the thing that was there to protect her. Cautiously she reached her hand out to the creature, silently willing it NOT to bite her hand off. The hellhound sniffed at her hand, blowing hot air over the extended appendage. Satisfied with whatever she found out, the creature turned from her and made herself comfortable on the bed, scrunching Pandora up more. For crying out loud, the creature took up nearly half the bed when trying.

Thrilled that her arm was intact, Pandora slid out of the bed and made her way to her closet in the interest of getting dressed.

“Well then,” she said to the creature as she struggled into her clothing, “I don't suppose you have a name?” The hellhound just stared back at her. “Right. You can't talk, can you?” The hellhound huffed in annoyance.

“Of course not. That would be too convenient,” she complained, pulling a sweater over her head. “Okay, I don't really feel like calling you dog, or 'pup', so how do you feel about a name?” Blinking at her, the hound opened her mouth in a doggy grin, long pink tongue hanging out.

“How does Seth sound to you?” she asked, “Named after the Egyptian god of chaos.” The hellhound snuffled her approval. Or, at least Pandora thought it might have been approval. She hoped it was anyway. As she tied her hair back into her usual messy ponytail, she observed the creature on the bed through the reflection in the mirror. Once you had a moment to actually look at the hound, she didn't seem quite as ferocious and terrifying as first assumed. Sure she was big, and yes she certainly looked like she could tear someone to pieces. Now Pandora knew she was crazy. After all, this was a creature from hell who's only purpose in life was to claim the souls of the people stupid enough to make a deal with a demon, and to drag it to hell. _And here she was, thinking about how adorable it was._ Turning to actually look at the hound, _'Seth_ ,' she reminded herself, she tried to ignore the fact that Crowley was now gone, and she didn't know when, or if, he was coming back. 

Blinking back tears, she busied herself getting ready to go about her normal, boring day, pretending as if nothing was wrong. She was surprised she still even had the job at the office with how many days she kept missing. Honestly, she would much rather head off to Bobby's for the day, maybe practice some more, at least when she was doing that it required all of her attention, not letting her think of the things that plagued her mind.

“Fuck work,” she said out loud, “I need to be around people I like.” With that, she turned to Seth, “you coming?” When the hound just stared at her she sighed. “Sorry, stupid question, I know. It's going to be hard pretending I can't see you when I'm out around people. Especially if I'm going to be making a habit of talking out loud to you.” Turning to the bed one last time, she felt her chest compress, as if forcing the air out of her lungs. “Let's go,” she said quietly, eyes stinging as she made her way to the door.


	11. Chapter 11

 “This isn't a good idea, Sam,” Dean growled, pacing the small dim lit room of the Campbell compound as they waited for the rest of the team to assemble outside. “In fact, this is a really, really bad idea. Making a deal with Meg? That bitch would more likely sleep with Cas than work with us! She's gonna double cross us the second she gets a chance.”

“And what the hell, man?” Dean continued, stopping his pacing to look at Sam in disbelief, “Samuel? What is he thinking, working for Crowley? Even if he could somehow manage to bring mom back... it just shouldn't be done!”

“Dean,” Sam interrupted impatiently from the door, “It's time to meet the others.” Scowling, Dean followed him out of the room to where Castiel and the Campbell's were waiting.

“Time to blow this joint.”

  
  


oooo

  
  


When they finally made it into the dank, grimy prison, they were quickly attacked by what appeared to be a pack of hellhounds. The Campbell's were quickly overcome, and they moved on grimly as they listened to the screams of the men being torn apart. That distraction didn't slow the hounds down for long and they soon found themselves once again stuck between a rock and a hard place. Leaving Meg behind to buy them time, they forged on, determined more than ever to find Crowley.

“Can't see jack,” the older brother grumbled as they made their way down the dark stairwell. Before Sam had a chance to reply they were blinded by a flash of light, followed by the disappearance of Castiel.

“Cas!?” Dean hollered, before swearing under his breath.

“Dean!” Sam cried out, noticing Samuel against the opposite wall, his hand over a fresh blood sigil.

“You sold us out?” Dean asked incredulously as two demons came up behind them out of nowhere to restrain Sam and him. “Damn you, Samuel.”

“Yes, and I have to say, best purchase I've made since Dick Cheney,” Crowley taunted, announcing his entrance with the customary smirk on his face.

“Hiya Crowley, how's tricks?” Dean asked sarcastically, making a half-assed attempt to break free of the demon holding him back.

“Above your pay grade,” Crowley quipped back, “Been working. Big things. Alas, you'll be too dead to participate.”

“Really?” Dean snarked back.

“Shame I'll have to do away with you both,” Crowley continued with mock pity, “rather enjoyed your indentured servitude.” He smirked again as his lackeys dragged Dean and Sam away.

Once the brothers had been locked up in separate cells, they were confronted by Samuel, who tried to give reasons for his treachery, none of which the boys were buying. They both watched him leave, disgust at what he had done clear on their faces. They were not alone for long though. Two other demons came along, dragging Dean out of his cell and out of Sam's line of sight. Dean was dragged down the hall and into another blood and guts stained room where he was presented to ghouls as “snack-time”. 

Meanwhile, back in Sam's cell, he had used quick thinking to escape. Luring the unsuspecting demon guards into the cell, he managed to trap them using a Demon's Trap he had painted on the ceiling with his own blood. Once free he went rushing off to his brothers rescue. With Sam's help, the ghouls were quickly dispatched and they moved deeper into the building in search of Meg, who they could hear screaming in the background.

The room that held Meg was, following the trend, dimly lit and grimy. Smears of god knows what ran down the walls, and pools of blood collected below the table the demon was strapped to. Arriving on the scene of torture, Dean relinquished Christian (who at some point had been possessed by a demon, probably to spy on Samuel for Crowley) of the knife he had been using to torture Meg, and stuck him with it. Releasing Meg from the bindings, Dean then hit the fire alarm in the hopes of flushing out Crowley. It worked quite well.

Surveying the damage to the room, and the body on the floor, Crowley turned around when the alarm was turned off behind him, revealing Dean by the door, hand still on the alarm, looking very pissed off.

“You should be ghoul scat by now,” Crowley commented almost in exasperation, pointing at Dean. Before he can get another word out, Sam whacked him over the back of the head with a disfigured metal pipe, knocking him to the ground. Stumbling back to his feet, he watched as Sam rejoined Dean at the door, where Dean had the knife at the ready.

“Really necessary?” he asked scowling, brushing debris off of his suit with short jerky strokes, obviously irritated, “I just had this dry-cleaned.” Looking up, he found himself once again caught in a Devil's Trap. “So,” he continued, slipping his face back into his usual mask of indifference, graced with the customary smirk, “to what do I owe the reach-around?” His face immediately dropped as Meg entered the room.

“Crowley,” she greeted with a grin of a cat who had finally caught the mouse.

“Whore,” he answered.

“Okay, you know what,” she took a step forward, clenching her fist and using her magic to cause him to double over and cough up blood. Satisfied, she grinned again, “The best torturers never get their hands dirty.” Temporarily releasing her hold she nodded to the brothers, “Sam wants a word with you.”

“What can I do for you, Sam?” he inquired from his bent over position, ignoring Meg and pretending that he was not currently in a position where he couldn't act the usual smart-ass.

“You know damn well,” he answered moving towards the trapped demon, “I want my soul back.”

“And here I thought you just grew some balls, Sam,” Meg quipped. Sam shot her a look of irritation before returning his gaze to Crowley.

“Well?”

“No.”

“Meg,” Dean said, cuing her to start her torture session of Crowley again, bringing him to his knees.

“I can't,” he ground out in between each hacking cough which resulted in more blood to pool on the floor in front of him.

“Can't or wont?” Sam asked.

“I said 'can't'. I meant 'can't', you mop-headed lumberjack. I was lucky to get this much of you out. Going back in there for the sloppy bits? No way. I'm good, but those two in there? Forget it,” he explained.

“How do we know you're not lying?” Sam questioned him.

“You don't. But it doesn't change anything. I'm telling you. Sam, why do you want your soul back? Satan's _one_ juicy source of entertainment in there. I'd swallow a rag off a bathhouse floor before I took that soul. Unless you want to be a drooling mess.”

“Sam, I hate to say it, but he's right,” Meg frowned.

“Yeah, right.” he cut her off. “I get it. Thanks. He's all yours.” He turned to leave.

“Woah, what are you, crazy? He's our only hope!” Dean exclaimed. Sam turned to him, a frown creasing his forehead.

“Dean, you heard him, He can't get it. He's useless.”

With a sigh, Dean handed Meg the demon slaying blade as she walked up to the trapped King of Hell.

“You'll let me back out, right?” she asked, turning back to them for confirmation. At their nod, she walked right up to Crowley, blade at the ready. “This is for Lucifer, you pompous little-” she gets cut off as Crowley grabbed her arm, pulling her forward and swiped her feet out from under her, sending her sprawling to the ground. Grasping the knife, he threw it up at the ceiling, striking the paint of the trap and severing the connection, freeing him. Now free, he threw Sam and Dean against opposite walls with a wave of his hands, as if parting the red sea. He turned back to Meg, who had just regained her feet. Quick as silver he retrieved the blade with his mind, willing it into his hand, whereas he then pointed it at Meg threateningly when she made to attack. She halted after seeing the look on his face though.

“That's better. You don't know torture, you little insect,” he grinned triumphantly. With the sound of hundreds of wings beating at once, Castiel appeared behind Crowley, looking very cross.

“Leave them alone,” he demanded.

“Castiel! Haven't seen you all season. You the cavalry now?”

“Put the knife down,” Cas demanded again.

“You the boss in Heaven? Heard you're losing out to Raphael. The whole affair makes Vietnam look like a roller derby,” Crowley then noticed the bag in Castiel's hand. “Hey, what's in the bag?” 

Reaching inside, Cas pulled out a skull and presented it to Crowley, “you are.”

“Not possible,” the demon replied, face draining of colour and emotion.

“You didn't hide your bones as well as you should have,” the Castiel commented nonchalantly. Sticking the blade under his arm, Crowley turned to fully face the angel, clapping mockingly.

“Cookie for you.”

Dropping the bag, Castiel glared at him, “Can you restore Sam's soul or not?” With a snap of his fingers, Crowley released the almost forgotten hunters from where they were still hanging on the wall.

“If I could help out in any other way-”

“Answer him!” Dean barked, not in the mood to listen to Crowley try to weasel his way out of the conversation. By now, Crowley was looking worried. He licked his lips nervously before answering.

“I can't,” he admitted looking pointedly at the angel. As soon as that was said, Castiel set his bones on fire, resulting in Crowley disintegrating in a flash of flames so hot they heated the skin of those in the room. With Crowley now out of the way, they turned back to Meg, who clearly had hoped she had been forgotten. Backing up, she quickly did her disappearing trick, leaving the angel and two hunters alone in the room.

“Well, she's smart. I'll give her that,” Dean commented dryly. “I was going to kill her too. Course, I'd have given you an hour with her first,” he said to Cas, a grin on his lips.

“Why would I want that?” Cas asked, tilting his head to the side quizzically.

  
  


oooo

  
  


Three days with no word from anyone was making Pandora stir-crazy. Even with Seth there to protect her, she still hadn't wanted to leave her apartment. Without the certainty that Crowley would be able to help her out, were she to find herself in some sort of situation, it made leaving the building seem a lot more scary. Finally, at the end of the third day she couldn't take it any more. Deciding to man up and quit being a stereotypical damsel in distress, Pandora gathered an overnight bag and made her way to the door of her apartment. Standing at the door with her bike, she looked to the hellhound standing by her side.

“I'm assuming you can keep up with me on this thing?” she asked. Seth huffed at her and stretched, as if preparing for a run. “Right then,” she muttered, making her way out the door.

Making her way down the darkening street, she marvelled at the sleek form of the creature at her side. Not only was the hellhound easily keeping up to her pace, but she also seemed to be quite enjoying the run. As soon as they reached the edge of the city, where the highway began, Seth pushed forward, increasing the pace and making Pandora work to keep up. She was glad for the challenge, it made it hard for her to think of the fact that she was riding down the dark highway alone. Well, not technically alone, but seeing as how no one else was able to see the hellhound, she basically counted that as being seen alone, and potentially vulnerable. She just hoped nothing attempted to attack her on her journey. That would suck. And probably send her already high stress levels though the roof.

After walking her bike down the long driveway into the junk yard to cool down, she parked it beside a rather nice black car that she recognised as Dean's. Glancing over at Seth, she firmly made a note to ignore the hound while inside. It wouldn't do any good to tip the hunters off to the fact that there was a supernatural being in their presence. With determination she let herself through the front door, trying to be subtle that she kept it open a second longer than strictly needed for her to enter the house in order for the hound to follow her. Clenching her jaw grimly, she wandered into the study, not looking forward to the conversation that was likely to take place. She was surprised though when she saw only Bobby and Dean in the room. Noting the tense looks on both of their faces, she began to worry.

“Where's Sam?” she asked quietly, as if breaking the sombre atmosphere was not a good thing to do. She dropped her bag beside the small couch Dean was sitting on and stood still, waiting for an answer. Dean sighed, leaned back against the couch and seemed to collapse in on himself. 

“Basement,” he said, nodding briefly in greeting. Scrunching her brow in confusion, she turned to Bobby, non-verbally asking for clarification. He sighed too, and explained how Dean had made a wager with Death in order to get Sam's soul back.

“So he's okay now?” she questioned, wandering into the sparse kitchen, dodging the hellhound as she proceeded to scrounge up some tea. With news like that, tea was the best thing right now to help ground her. Or at the very least, the process of preparing the tea, even if half the time it ended up going cold on the table.

“We don't know yet,” Dean responded glumly, rubbing his hands over his face, “he still hasn't woken up. He only got his soul back last night. And it's not like there are very many cases where a soul has been retrieved from Hell, so we don't even know how long he's going to be out for.” Wincing in sympathy, Pandora returned to the study and set the steeping cups of tea on the desk amidst the old books and papers stacked up precariously in piles. Sitting down beside Dean, she put her arm around his shoulder in an effort to comfort him.

“Have you heard anything about Crowley?” she burst out, unable to keep the question to herself any longer, dropping her arms to her sides. Yes, she was happy that Sam had his soul back, although worried that he hadn't woken up yet and they didn't know if he was going to be okay, but she was even more worried about Crowley. Dean seemed to brighten up at the mention of the demon's name.

“Finally managed to gank him,” he nearly crowed, “Cas found his bones, and poof, up in flames he went.” He punctuated his story by wildly gesturing with his arms. Pandora's stomach dropped, and she wrapped her arms around her middle.

“You don't say,” she said weakly, praying to herself that he has used her idea to hide his bones after all. Dean observed her reaction with a look of confusion. Realizing he probably hadn't heard the whole story about _why_ she knows Crowley, she quickly filled him in, with various interruptions from Bobby, filling in the details. At the end of her tale, she grabbed her cup of tea hiding behind the large mug as tears surprisingly sprang to her eyes. Taking a quick gulp, she relished the burn of the hot liquid down her throat. At least if either of the men asked why she had tears in her eyes she could always blame burning herself with the tea. She missed the thoughtful gaze Bobby sent her way as she busied herself with the tea.

“Don't worry, babe, we will find a way to stop this, we always do,” Dean comforted her quietly, a sad look upon his face.

“Sure,” she answered, letting her gaze drift over to Seth momentarily before focusing on the sky outside the window. “Not the first time, eh?” she murmured to her tea, pulling her legs up under her.


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So.... yeah... this chapter royally kicked my ass. It fought me every step of the way and I kinda hate it, but I don't think I can really improve on it right now.

Groaning loudly, Pandora flopped down onto the hard packed earth of Singer's Salvage Yard. It had been nearly two weeks since Crowley had left, and she found herself buzzing around with anxious energy. In the hope of burning that energy, she had been spending almost all of her time out in the yard either training with Dean, or hitting the books with Bobby.

For the last three hours or so, she had been 'fighting' stuffed pillow cases with various weapons, ranging from simple knives to stakes. They weren't her favourite to work with, seeing as how up close and personal they were, but Dean insisted that they were necessary and that she should be able to react with them without even having to think about it.

“Are we done yet?” she whined up in Dean's direction, limbs turned to jelly, making it impossible for her to actually look at him. Leaning up against one of the old wrecks littering the yard, he crossed his arms and shook his head at her, not that she could see it.

“Not a chance,” he said cheerfully, nodding towards the row of pillows that already looked live over used pin cushions, “you still gotta kill that 'vampire' twenty more times.” Making a face of displeasure, she rolled over, ignoring aching muscles and peeked at the hell hound resting on the remains of a nearby car hood. If hell hounds could laugh, Pandora was sure this one would be positively cackling at her predicament.

Since things had been so quiet, _the lull before a storm,_ she thought, after Crowley disappeared, Seth had been amusing herself with following Dean around, brushing up against him every so often, and generally causing him to be jumpy and paranoid of almost any sound. Determining that whatever was bugging him wasn't a ghost or any of the regular creepies, Dean was left to believe he was just imagining things. Amusing as it was to watch, Pandora was still worried that someone would eventually catch onto what was happening notice the bored hell hound. Not only would that lead to more questions than she would want to answer, there was also the risk of the two conscious hunters trying to kill Seth. Well, she'd just have to deal with that when, _if_ , they get to that point. 

Climbing back to her feet, she attempted to dust off her jeans, which by this point were probably more dirt than denim. Picking up the offended roughly carved wooden stake, she flipped it in her hand a couple of times before chucking it at the nearest “vampire”. Unsurprisingly, the stake harmlessly bounced off of the target rather than impale it. At the same moment that the stake had left her hand, Pandora got whacked in the back of the head with another pillow. Not expecting the attack, the strike sent her wind-milling, nearly knocking her off her feet. Spinning around, she glared at Dean, a bewildered look plastered across her face.

“What the hell, man?” she demanded, picking the pillow back up off the ground and flinging it back at him. He caught it and set it down onto the forgotten pile of unused pillows at his feet.

“Keep aware of the things around ya at all times,” he instructed, “knowing what's coming up behind you can literally mean the difference between stayin' alive and being some boogie man's snack.” Feeling decidedly scolded, and rightfully so, she blushed bright pink and nodded.

“Right,” she acknowledged, before widening her eyes in surprise and staring past Dean. Looking at her in confusion, he whipped around, only to be startled into jumping at the close proximity of the silent man suddenly standing behind him.

“God-dammit, Cas!” Dean snapped, “How many times to I have to tell ya not to appear behind me like that?!”

“So what happened to being constantly aware?” Pandora teased, laughing as she walked the few steps over to the duo. Dean shot her vaguely sulky look, but proceeded to ignore her as soon as the other man started talking.

“My apologies, Dean” the man, who Pandora figured must be the angel Castiel said, “I bring news about the soul Raphael wants.” At this, she perked up, leaned forward unconsciously and listened intently to what the angel had to say. After all, Crowley hadn't been too forth coming on the details, and Bobby's research hadn't turned up anything of much use either, so any news at this point was cause for great excitement. Taking a quick look around, she also noted that Seth had made herself scarce.

“So, what've you got for us?” Dean asked. Castiel looked at Pandora questioningly, standing ram-rod straight, obviously uncomfortable with her presence. At Dean's not though, he did relax slightly, or at least enough not to look so much like he was constipated. Sitting down on the hood of the car he had been previously leaning up against, Dean patted the spot beside him, inviting Pandora over. Hoisting herself up beside him, she observed the looks passed between the hunter and angel. _'Huh, non-verbal conversation there? Interesting,_ ” she mused.

“From what my sources have been able to tell me, it sounds as if Raphael believes they can use the girl's soul to release Michael and Lucifer from the cage, as well as completely obliterating Hell itself,” Cas informed them. Feeling the colour drain from her face and the breath whoosh out of her, she turned to Dean, who's face was a mask of bitter rage.

“Now what do we do?” she gasped out, finally finding her lungs. Clenching her hands in her lap she shuddered. This was much worse that what she had anticipated. She knew the story behind the supposed apocalypse and resulting imprisonment of the Archangel and Devil from Bobby, but she never suspected that she would end up smack dab in the middle of it all. If Lucifer and Michael were somehow able to escape from the cage, it would mean hell on earth, again. She shuddered again.

“We cannot let them escape,” Castiel continued, “They will bring about the apocalypse again if we do, and we will not be able to trap them in the cage again.”

“Got any suggestions for us then?” Dean inquired gruffly, seemingly containing his anger to unleash on some poor sod at some other point in time.

“There is only one way I know of that will prevent them from leaving the cage,” the angel replied, looking at the still white-faced girl with a pointed stare.

“Is there any other way we can possibly stop them?” she pleaded, jumping off of the car and grabbing Cas' jacket sleeves. The angel peered down at her, then stiffened and widened his eyes, looking shocked or possibly surprised.

“None, as far as I am aware,” he answered hesitantly, looking as if he wanted to lean away from her. Hearing that was enough to make her start shivering with fear. Without thinking she grabbed onto him more tightly. This time, he did lean away minutely in discomfort.

“I don't want to go to hell,” she muttered quietly, a quiver in her voice. Closing her eyes, she willed herself not to cry. She then found herself gathered up in Dean's arms, rescuing Castiel from the unfamiliar task of comforting a crying girl.

“Hey, hey, hey, it's okay. We'll find another way,” he soothed her, looking over her head sorrowfully at the angel. Pandora just shook and let him hold her for a while. Frankly, she was terrified. She knew what was waiting for her in hell. After nearly two weeks of basically living with the hunters, Pandora had heard the whole story of Dean's “visit” to hell and how bad it was for him. Even after Castiel had brought him back. She saw glimpses herself of what emotional damage he suffered, even now. They had gotten quite close over the last weeks, bonding over their respective “Daddy Issues”. Dean had found himself taking care of his younger brother as his father was out hunting after the demon that had killed their mother, which was often. Pandora's father, on the other hand, had left when she was still quite young and had never returned. It was devastating for her mother, who hadn't seen it coming. With him gone, it didn't take long for her mother to fall into a deep depression. After a few years of losing herself at the bottom of a bottle she finally took her own life by overdosing on sleeping pills while Pandora was at school, thus leaving fourteen year old her to the mercy of foster care. Of course, as soon as she turned eighteen, she got out of there and moved to a completely different part of the country. She hadn't told many people that story over the years, so she surprised herself when she found herself opening up to Dean. He was almost as awesome as the older brother she had created for herself growing up, except he was real, and standing in front of her, and comforting her like the brother she never had couldn't.

Peeking over Dean's broad shoulder, Pandora noticed the angel shifting from foot to foot. Taking that as her cue, she disengaged herself from Dean and backed away.

“I'm going to go tell Bobby the news,” she sniffed, smoothing out her rumpled tee shirt. “I think someone wants to talk to you alone,” she whispered quietly to Dean, before turning and walking up to the house. Taking one more quick look over her shoulder, she spied the hunter and angel standing shoulder to shoulder, talking quietly. Humming, she entered the house. Wiping the last of the wetness, _they were not tears dammit_ , from her eyes she thought on the celestial being. She wasn't sure what to make of him. During their brief encounter he hadn't shown himself to be particularly chatty, and he seemed incredibly uncomfortable with any contact. _Other than Dean's._ Now wasn't that an interesting thought.

Locating Bobby on the phone in the “Call Centre” as she had dubbed it, she sank down heavily into one of the cheap plastic chairs set up by the desk with a sigh. Bobby nodded to her in greeting as he talked to someone on the other end of the line. Ending his call a few moments later, he put the receiver back in the cradle and looked at her expectantly. Resting her elbows on her knees, she glumly put her face in her hands and sighed again.

“Dean's angel is here, and he found out why the other angels upstairs want my soul,” she ground out, voice muffled by her hands.

“And?” he prompted.

“Looks like they may be able to use it to release Michael and Lucifer from the cage,” she added, moving her hands to rest steeped under her chin, “and we still don't have any alternative to keep my soul out of there hands, other than sending it out of their reach and into Hell. Oh, and as it turns out, they would also be able to destroy Hell, and everything in it.” After a moment of depressing silence, Bobby spoke.

“Well fuck me sideways with a screwdriver. That explains why Crowley was so hell-bent on making a deal with you and getting his grubby hands on your soul.” Pandora nodded and dropped her hand into her lap, still slumped over in the chair. She looked up at Bobby, the pain and terror clear in her red-rimmed eyes. He leaned back in his seat and ran his hand over his beard, face grim.

“I hope Sam wakes up soon. These last two weeks have me feeling like we are just sitting in Limbo or something. As if everything is on pause,” she said, “I hate it.” Noticing the way that Bobby's face darkened at the mention of Sam, she sat back up.

“What's up?” she asked. Bobby just shook his head and stood up and walked into his study. Jumping to her feet, Pandora followed him and watched with disapproval as he pulled out a bottle of what looked like home-made liquor. Leaning against his book ridden desk, she crossed her arms.

“Well?” she pressed in the hopes that talking about what ever was bugging him would hopefully help to distract her from her problems. At least for a little while.

“Balls,” Bobby exclaimed quietly when he saw she wasn't going to let it go. Screwing his face up into a scowl, he fell back into his dusty chair and took a long pull from his bottle

“I'm guessing something happened between the two of you,” she added, “he said or did something that pissed you off. Now out with it.”

He sat brooding for a while, but she didn't push him any more, content on waiting once she saw she was likely to get an answer out of him.

“I can't trust him any more,” Bobby said finally, face drawn down into a anguished frown. Knitting her brow, Pandora waited, biting her tongue to prevent herself from asking needless questions. “He tried to kill me. Before we were able to get his soul back. We needed to do a ritual that 'needed the blood of his father, but his father needn't be blood'. Sam decided he would rather live without his soul, that he was better off without it, but he knew Dean wouldn't let him do that. He knew the only sure-fire way to stop the ritual and preventing his soul from returning, was to kill me. Seeing as how I'm the closest thing to a father that boy has now.” Finished his tirade, Bobby slumped down even further into his worn out chair. 

“Oh,” Pandora breathed, covering her mouth with her hands. “Oh,” she repeated, at a loss for words. She waved her hands uselessly in from of her, unsure as to what to do with them. With a lack of anything else to say or do, she found kneeling and reaching out, wrapping her arms around his shoulders, pulling him into a crushing hug. He stiffened and made an attempt to pull away, but she just grasped on to him tighter, refusing to let go.

“Shut up and take it like a man,” she snapped, her voice quavering. “I doubt you have someone in your life other than those hunters, and obviously not anyone willing to give you the comfort when you need it, so shut up, because you definitely need it right now.” 

Bobby 'harrumphed', but didn't try to move away again. Slowly, he raised his arms up and returned her hug, clinging to her silently. Pandora didn't bother trying to fill the silence with hollow words. She knew nothing she said would lessen the pain and betrayal he was feeling. Instead, she hung on to him as tightly as she could, offering him what little comfort she was able.


End file.
